


The Tigress and the Snake

by TearoomSaloon



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Now with 10x the self-doubt and inner conflict, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Pre-Canon, akechi remaining feral after getting soft? in my fanfic? it's more likely than you think, he goes through some very begrudging character growth, narrator: they did, no betas no ragrats we die like men, not darkfic but dark moments approach, that eventually shifts to canon, them: we won't catch feelings, there is a grand total of one explicit scene and it's skippable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 57,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25096843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearoomSaloon/pseuds/TearoomSaloon
Summary: He smirked. "I don't think either read the room. The dissatisfied daughter bored of political marriage prospects and the figurative son determined to play Judas in his father's self-aggrandized narrative. A match made by careless, narcissistic optimists.""And your proposal?" She rested her hands on the table. "Or am I wrong to assume you came here with a plan of attack?""You want your father out of the running, I want my employer dead to the public. I think we can both benefit from the exchange of trade secrets."(Retelling starting from pre-canon. Updates weeklyish)
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Okumura Haru
Comments: 153
Kudos: 149





	1. if you're considering making a friend, don't

**Author's Note:**

> Note that though there is an E rating, it's solely for one skippable scene in chapter 5 that you can see coming from a mile away. I'm (mildly) considering pulling it out and putting it in a "things that don't quite fit" offshoot. This is otherwise an M rated story for violence against shadows and an implied sex scene that lacks actual description of the act.
> 
> I have been putting this together very slowly for about...six months? Sat down thinking 'yeah, this'll be an easy one-shot, maybe 5k words'. Y'all. I was so wrong.
> 
> I think it's safe to say this is one of the most self-indulgent things I've written. If the shuake people get to write fluff then god dammit I'm doing it too, even if it's sparse and riddled with emotional conflict.
> 
> This AU operates under several conditions:  
> 1\. Haru, if groomed from childhood to be the head of Okumura Foods and not a bargaining chip with a dowry, would have a vicious edge underneath her mild manners. Like father, like daughter.  
> 2\. Akechi is desperate for genuine affection and was doomed to latch to the first person to offer his bitter, hidden self a shred of actual kindness. This is an unwelcome revelation and he can't figure out how to turn it off.  
> 3\. He is not responsible for Haru's father eventually getting killed by the Conspiracy.  
> 4\. He allied with Shido at the age of 14, four years prior to the present  
> 
> 
> To the other five people who like the pairing, cheers, I hope you enjoy this as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

She never liked December. 

Investor meetings and third quarter reports smacked between two holidays. Nylon stockings, her fake-pleasant voice, heavy drinking at the company party. Mix it this year with her father's desire to enter the political world and the resulting slew of underqualified suitors. An unsatisfying, weakly intoxicating punch bowl of exhaustion.

Folder after folder landed carelessly on her desk, stocked full of information on prospective men.

She discarded them unopened into the trash.

"Actually read this one, please."

The file was razor-thin. _He was running out of options,_ she thought as she took the proffered folder. The face inside was young—the youngest she'd seen in weeks, someone her own age. Pleasant. Unassuming.

Boring.

"Not interested."

"We can't do this forever. He'll be here in a few hours."

She bit down the flare of rage. "That wasn't part of our agreement, Father."

"Neither was your ability to veto without a counter. Play dirty and you'll be met with the same tactics. Don't forget who raised you, sweetheart."

Frown thick on her face, she held her tongue and let him leave on the last word.

She'd sat patiently through enough soul-sucking meetings to make it through a half hour with some dull hormonal teenager. She flipped through the papers in the file, confusion about her father's choice only growing until she was in front of him, teapot a blockade on the table between two hostile parties.

"I'm sure you've realized this is a set up."

His eyes were deceptively docile, only rarely betraying the coldness he flashed with his teeth. A viper in the grass. He relaxed his posture, concealing his coiled threat to strike.

"I'm not stupid." She unsheathed her claws. "Though I'll admit my curiosity stems from why my father picked _you_. Information gathering aside, this arrangement would draw negative attention."

"I presume he believes the reward outweighs the risk, the same as my employer."

"Your tone lacks confidence in both parties."

He smirked. "I don't think either read the room. The dissatisfied daughter bored of political marriage prospects and the figurative son determined to play Judas in his father's self-aggrandized narrative. A match made by careless, narcissistic optimists."

"And your proposal?" She rested her hands on the table. "Or am I wrong to assume you came here with a plan of attack?"

"You want your father out of the running, I want my employer dead to the public. I think we can both benefit from the exchange of trade secrets."

"They'll want evidence of a relationship to maintain the ruse. If both think their pawn is playing a lovesick fool, it'll be suspicious when neither acts it."

"I have no interest in that sort of thing, but we don't have to tell the truth about what happens behind closed doors."

Perfect, she detested the date nights and fake pleasantries. "It's a deal, then. My time is both precious and short, so I will be in touch about arrangements."

"Likewise." His handshake was firm, hand warm from his glove. "I look forward to hearing from you."

His public personality was grating. Cheerful, well-mannered, and extremely polite, the complete opposite of his behavior when they were alone. She figured he found her fake, overly nice persona equally annoying.

Their meetings thankfully gravitated away from open spaces and popular cafes. Her money afforded them the privacy of fine-dining, but she rarely had the luxury of time for those sorts of affairs. Sometimes the only interaction they had all week was a quick rendezvous in the back of a limousine to exchange handwritten notes.

She'd lie constantly about where they went, what they did. Sitting in the dark on the tops of picnic tables became candle-lit evenings with beautiful views of the ocean. A day spent dodging her security detail for the sake of two code words and a hastily-drawn map was a shopping trip. Her father should have known better than to buy her lies. After all, he was the one who raised her to keep her fangs out.

"Are you free later?"

The call caught her off-guard; they rarely made plans out loud.

"How much later is 'later'?" It was the bitter end of February and the fiscal year end was approaching like a bear shaking off the sleepiness of hibernation. Her free time was becoming non-existent.

"After dinner."

"The concept of a set dinnertime is a construct of the middle class."

He laughed and she could picture it—leaned back at his desk, hand covering his eyes, grin bared to no one in particular. "How does nine sound, your highness? Or is humor also a middle-class construct?"

"I'll have the servants prepare my carriage."

"Meet me by the dumpling shop in Kichijoji. Without the servants, if you can."

It took the excuse of a study group meeting and agreeing to be escorted to the train to get out of the house. He was easy to spot in the crowd, impeccably dressed and bored with the scenery. 

"Is this place always so bustling at night?"

"The main streets are, but not the alleyways. Follow me."

He extended his arm to her and she took it without a thought about drawing attention. She felt invisible here, another face between the lantern lights.

"The place we're going is something of a hidden gem. I hope it'll be to your standards, princess."

She smiled at his teasing tone. "I'll have you beheaded for treason if it's not."

It was a jazz club, the decor intimate if not industrial. The smell of harsh incense mixed with steamed meat, low lighting obscuring the faces of patrons seated closer to the center stage. He was waved over to the bar by a man who called himself Muhen, the club's manager.

"I don't think I've ever seen you bring someone along."

She opened her mouth to introduce herself—

"This is my girlfriend, Haru." The sentence sounded so natural, like he'd said it a thousand times over. "She'll be joining me more often."

Unsure what game he was playing, she nodded. "On the rare occasion I have time to spare."

The manager laughed. "Don't worry, no one will be offended if you bring your work with you. He's usually pouring over a stack of books anyway."

They were seated in the back, far from the door and curious eyes. She wasn't sure how he didn't expect to attract attention; a habitual loner with a new accomplice was sure cause for a few whispers.

"I'm not dressed for this." She reluctantly folded her coat on the booth beside her, fur-lined garment the only part of her ensemble on par with his well-tailored suit. In comparison, this princess looked frumpier than her pauper.

"Apologies, I should have mentioned I wanted to take you somewhere with atmosphere."

She waved a hand. "It would have raised more suspicions. The coat, Father doesn't bat an eye, but a dress and heels would get his attention."

"I'll let you know next time I intend to bring you here and we'll come up with a better, heel-appropriate cover story."

"I appreciate the sentiment." She smoothed out her skirt and settled beside him. "So, what is it you wanted to discuss?"

"Nothing in particular."

She could hear the annoyance in her voice before she registered the feeling behind it. "You asked me to use up a portion of my free time for nothing in particular?"

"No. You asked what I wanted to discuss. I didn't invite you out to talk. It's a jazz club; I asked you here to listen."

Oh.

She let him order them both drinks, turning her attention to the band down below. It was melancholic but hopeful, the music. So much said without a word to accompany the instruments. Closing her eyes, she let it pour over her, washing out her thoughts until she felt detached from the present. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slowed down long enough to enjoy something for the sake of it.

"Why did you introduce me as your girlfriend?" she asked in between sets. "The manager seems to know you; I'm not sure if we need to maintain a cover here."

"You never know who is likely to turn up, or ask questions. Better to be safe than get chewed out. And besides, might be beneficial to practice putting on a show of it for once."

His arm snaked around her waist and she let herself inch closer. She'd faked intimacy with past suitors, made a display of affection for the sake of gathering information, but it never had a physiological effect before. Her pulse quickened, heartbeat a set of thundering hooves in her ear. She didn't dare lay her head on his shoulder to see if she could hear her nervousness reflected in kind between his ribs.

She couldn't pay attention to the music anymore, mind begrudgingly wandering back to him like curious fingers prodding a tender bruise. How long had her hormones been waiting to spring this horrible news on her? Were they plotting for a moment of weakness? An intimate setting? Don't stare. Don't observe. Don't make note of how he smelled, or how warm his hand was on her hip, whole side on fire, buzzing like insect wings. Don't think of how nice it would feel to wrap an arm around his waist, to be just a few inches closer—

Slowly, not wanting to raise suspicion, she shifted away from his touch, their shoulders barely near enough to brush when she picked up her glass.

"Sorry, was that too forward?"

"It was…unexpected. You don't strike me as the physical affection type."

"I wouldn't know, this is as close as I've ever been to a relationship of any kind."

"Really? I'm honestly surprised you haven't been snapped up looking and acting the way you do."

"Care to elaborate?"

She let her gaze wander away from their table. "You're attractive, confident, and charismatic when you want to be. Girls our age devour that sort of stuff."

"I don't want to be in the company of people who can't see through the mild-mannered façade." He shrugged. "Most people bore me. They act how they think they should, not how they want. Always looking out for the latest trend, thinking that will somehow make them more likable, more popular."

"I hope you see the irony in that when you conceal a very blunt, bitter personality with a polite smile."

"It's not lost on me. I have something I'm working towards that requires me to act the way I do, otherwise I wouldn't waste my time."

"Sometimes I wonder how you feel about me, since I also put on a front." She wasn't sure why the words found their way from her inner monologue to her mouth. "If you think I'm as obnoxious as the people waiting in line for hours at the dumpling shop just to say they've tried it, too."

"You have a goal, don't you? Something you need to appear proper and perfect for or risk failure, that's hardly comparable."

"I suppose that's true, depending on what counts as a goal."

He was quiet for a minute, thinking. A shiver trickled down her spine when his hand found hers on the table, fingers so cautious as they laced together. "I enjoy your company. I wouldn't have asked you to come with me tonight if I didn't, fake date or not. Regardless, we should be doing more things to keep up the illusion of a relationship."

Right, that made sense.

She made it home after midnight. Muttering the word _finals_ was a get out of jail free card and she returned to her room to ruminate until sleep came uneasily in.

They didn't speak of the jazz club for weeks, routine slipping seamlessly back into place. She noticed he was growing more accustomed to having her in his space. A gentle touch on the small of her back, an arm to lean on, the occasional gloved hand to fit neatly with her own.

She'd been so _stupid_ to assume this arrangement would be less difficult than the last few. It had been so easy to disconnect from the other suitors. They had been duller, older, and more concerned with her inheritance than her.

In contrast, he was smart as he was callous, quick-witted, and unconcerned with how she perceived him. He didn't want her money, attention, or body, just the information she could gather to help undermine his employer. And she couldn't help but sneak a glance at his profile whenever he turned his head.

That face would be the death of her.

"You're glaring again."

"No I'm not."

"You should see the size of your frown." Chuckling, he followed her gaze to the booth down the aisle from them, the seated group of girls staring, whispering. "Sometimes I have to wonder what they'd do if I were to kiss you."

The thought of his lips pressed to hers sent pleasant chills down her shoulders. "Write even nastier things about me on their forum posts, probably."

They had been downplaying the fake dates since he'd started appearing on the morning news. She couldn't say she was very surprised the detective prince persona turned out to be a total heartthrob to teenage girls, but it was a nuisance nonetheless. It might have been attractive to her, too, if she didn't know the cold, angry boy who lived beneath the mask.

Not that he was any less attractive.

"There's a gala in late April I'd like to take you to." She fiddled with the straw in her milkshake. "It's a charity event and most of Father's associates will be in attendance. They'll be expecting you to accompany me."

"Black tie?"

"Of course."

"I don't have a tux."

"I can have one made."

"I appreciate it, but I do not have the funds at the moment."

She let her eyes narrow. "I'm rich."

"Right, forgot about that. When do you want to go shopping?"

She picked a Tuesday afternoon, business slow and classes done for the term. He seemed at home in a tailor's shop, familiar with the process. _Makes sense_ , she thought. Everything he owned seemed to fit like it was sewn on.

"I think I understand why they call it a penguin suit now," he joked halfway through the appointment. "I'm not sure I can put my arms back down."

"What are you leaning towards?"

"Probably a double-breasted jacket, it makes me feel less like some James Bond-esque stock character. What color are you wearing?"

"Black."

"Black? In Spring?"

"It's for my mother's charity, I'm wearing her dress."

She watched him put the two together. "Understood. I'm sure she'd be happy you're able to wear it for this."

"Don't say fluff you don't mean."

"I'm serious."

Haru rolled her eyes

"My mother never had the chance to watch me succeed either. I'm sure yours would be proud of you, too."

She looked away. That shouldn't have hit a nerve. "Thanks."

It was another half hour of relative quiet until he was given an order number and a time to collect the finished suit. She took his hand when they exited the shop, emotions threatening to bubble like overboiled cream.

"I appreciate you putting up with these additional conditions." Don't meet his eyes, don't meet his eyes. "I'd like to get you something, as a gift."

"You just paid for a bespoke tux—"

"That's a necessity, it's not a gift."

"A _necessity?"_

"I invited you to a fancy party, making sure you're dressed appropriately for said fancy party is the absolute bare minimum of what I'm supposed to do." She squeezed his hand and finally looked up into those huge brown eyes. "Your peacoat is starting to look a little worn."

"Haru—"

"Please."

"Fine. What's the budget?"

"It's a _gift!_ There is no budget!"

He laughed, conceding. "I think I saw something that caught my eye a few blocks back, if you've time to humor me."

The shop was ultra-modern on the inside, the wares a mix of timeless classics and trendy designs. He tried a number of beautiful woolen coats, meticulously inspecting the stitching and craftsmanship of each. She permitted herself to stare just a little—it was innocent if she were helping him, right?

"I think that's it."

It was mid-length, a houndstooth plaid that erred on the side of dazzle camouflage, cut to hang so elegantly off those broad shoulders.

"You think so?"

"You look…" _Stunning_. "Good."

"The last one was 'very nice'."

"I like this one better. But it's your coat—"

"No, I trust your judgement." He shrugged it off in a fluid motion. "And thank you."

She smiled and felt it light up her face. "Don't mention it."

"What's the plan for this fancy party?" he asked once they were back outside.

"I thought you could come over to my apartment a little early to get ready."

"I thought you lived in a house?" He frowned. "I've been to your house."

"I own an apartment in Ronppongi." When he didn't respond, she scrambled for the explanation. "It's an investment property. Market was lower a few years ago, Father did the paperwork but I bought it with my money, it's in my name."

"How did you—"

"Dividends. I'm one of the majority shareholders for Okumura Foods." 

"You're extremely financially savvy, aren't you?"

"You could say I've been groomed to take over the family business since I could walk."

"Rich, pretty, frighteningly intelligent. No wonder you've got so many suitors chasing you."

Her heart bubbled at the compliment. "It makes finding a diamond in the sea of garbage that much more satisfying."

"If you ever find one."

If the sentiment of the agreement were returned—if there were meaning behind their entwined hands—she'd have stopped to kiss him, a polished stone brilliant under the sunlight.

But it wasn't, and instead she gave a half-hearted shrug. "I can always hope."

"Back to my question, I'll get ready at yours, we go socialize in expensive clothes, and then what?"

"I intend to stay at the apartment. Father will likely have some kind of after-party at the house or he'll go elsewhere, so I'm not keen on being home and unable to sleep. I can have a car take you home, or you can stay with me."

"I assume you mean we'd share a bed. Very tempting, but I'll pass."

"It's a big bed if you change your mind."

"It sounds like a scandal waiting to happen."

She snorted. "These sorts of things don't turn into scandals. No one wants to lose face with other families when looking to marry off their children."

The good-natured humor drained from his face. "You've been expected to keep quiet when people take advantage of you?"

"You assume because I know it happens means I've had to endure it myself?"

"You're on the defensive."

"This isn't a discussion I'm going to have in public."

He held his tongue, sinking into a cold fury until they were in the back of her security detail's car. Jaw clenched, eyes hard, he let out a tense breath. "Were you, or were you not, forced to take part in something unsavory for the sake of saving face?"

"Not forced."

"When?"

"Last winter. Christmas season. This kind of modern warfare isn't uncommon in the wealthier households."

"Just because something is commonplace doesn't make it right."

"I know that, I'm not an idiot. I thought I could gain something out of it; my father isn't the only one playing number games in his personal life."

"And did you get anything in return?"

"An obscene amount of inside information on a rival company and a guilty conscience." She grit her teeth at the memory. "I felt vindicated watching them burn to the ground."

He remained silent, still stewing.

"I will have a car ready to take you home an hour or two after we leave."

"Fine."

She trained her gaze out the window, barely responding to his borderline rude goodbye. She should have kept that to herself, there was no reason to involve him in loyalty conflicts. It wasn't like he was going to stick around after he was done extracting information from her.

He was scarce for weeks leading up to the gala. He called twice, both times to pass her papers outside one building or another and then turn on his heel and fade back into the night. With the fiscal year winding down, she had less time to focus on her father's whereabouts and almost no time to listen for things to pass along. It was only a matter of time before their arrangement outlived its usefulness.

"I thought you were going to skip out." She was half dressed at her door, robe thrown haphazardly on over underwear and not properly tied, hair up in a towel, some kind of face mask globbed onto her cheeks—

"It's my fault for not calling." She stepped aside to let him over the threshold. "I assumed nothing has changed since we last spoke?"

"Everything is still the same. You're lucky I didn't find another date."

"Not planning to sabotage anyone this season?"

"If you're looking to pick another fight about my previous choices, you can go right back through that door and I'll tell everyone you got sick last minute."

"About that, I'm sorry, I—"

"You don't apologize for anything serious and you know it."

His shoulders dropped and he sighed. "I made a mistake in leading you to believe my frustration was with you and not your shitty parent. You felt attacked, got upset, and for that I am sorry. An apology where I'm not changing my stance, does that fit your narrative?"

"It does, and I accept. Neither of our fathers are model figures, though you still haven't told me what yours did."

"In due time."

An empty answer. She wandered back into the bathroom. "How did the tux turn out?"

"It's beautiful, thank you."

"Did you need something in here, or are you just hovering?"

"The latter. Thought it would make sense to keep you company."

"Strike two, that's out of character." She eyed him in the mirror. "You're acting strange. Is something on your mind?"

"Nothing. Nerves, perhaps. Being in a room full of people I don't know is always unsettling."

"I've seen you work a crowd like you were born to do nothing else." She smoothed primer over her face. "Are you usually anxious about that?"

"No. I don't care enough about others' opinions of me to be uncomfortable about that."

"But now it's bothering you?"

"I don't know how to explain the emotion, it's not very familiar."

"We can leave early if it's still upsetting you later."

"I wouldn't want to take you away from—"

"I invited you. You're my guest. It would be rude of me to not put you first."

"...Thank you."

"Oh, one more thing before I forget." She stepped around him and into her bedroom. There were so many _rules_ for men's formal wear and she'd forgotten such an important part when they'd been out. Returning, she pressed a small box into his hands. "These are for you."

"I had a hunch you'd pull a set of studs out of thin air." He inspected one of the cuffs. "Mother of pearl? You're just dying to turn me into Pierce Brosnan, aren't you?"

"If you're making another western spy movie reference it's going right over my head, I only watch horror films."

"Very unexpected piece of information, unsure what I'll be able to do with it." He closed the box. "I appreciate it, though."

It was another hour before she was ready to don her ensemble. He had finished dressing while she did her face and was now inspecting his reflection with a look of befuddlement.

"Is something wrong?"

"No." He frowned, eyes not wavering from the mirror. "Nevermind, I lied. I can't tie a bowtie very well."

"Ace Detective Akechi Goro defeated by a long strip of formal fabric."

"Can you help without making a production of it?"

"Famed Heiress Okumura Haru needed to perform a life-saving bowtie operation." She smirked. "You're doing a terrible job pretending not to laugh."

"Just get over here."

She stood in front of him on her tiptoes, hands familiar with the motions if not a little rusty.

"I figured you'd be good at this."

"Why? Don't say because it's a domestic chore."

"It seemed like something you would do as a kid. Only daughter raised by her father and grandfather, both high-profile socialites. It would be considered cute of you to help them get ready."

 _In place of their dead wives_ , she added to herself. "Spot on. It comes in handy when your date doesn't know his way around a salad fork." She smoothed down the lapels of his jacket, hands lingering just a second too long on his chest before realizing what she was doing.

"How do I look?" His voice had taken a softer quality, as if he were acknowledging the longing in her touch.

"Handsome." Head to toe. The cut of the jacket emphasized the broad silhouette of his shoulders, the trim line of his waist. "You'll have to fight the women off tonight."

"You're being extremely generous." He fiddled with the knot tying his hair away from his face. "Is this fine?"

"I like it."

"I'm not sure if I do." He turned his head again with a frown. "Do you need help with your dress?"

She did, at least for the zipper. It was an off-the-shoulder A-line dress with a wide, straight-cut neckline with short sleeves that acted as an extension of the neck. There was a matching hat for a garden affair, but it wasn't part of tonight's attire.

His fingers were nimble with the zipper, quick, not lingering for a second longer than necessary. "Ready?"

As ready as she could be.


	2. you're a terrible liar and it shows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got impatient so I'm posting the next chapter. The third one is done too! I'll post it when I'm at least halfway done with four.  
> Y'all the response to this has me OVER THE MOON! Thank you all so much for leaving such nice words, they warm my icy cold heart.  
> 
> 
> Akechi here has terrible decision making skills when heavy emotions are involved - but I guess that's canon, isn't it?

It was already dark at seven, night having cozied up to the city long before the limousine stopped in front of a stone-paved pathway. Gathering her face into the expected shape, she left the vehicle with the grace of a springing doe and waited patiently for her partner to join at her elbow.

"I still can't put into words how pissed off I am that you went and had _another_ coat made on top of everything. How much did it cost?"

"It's not polite to ask about the price of gifts."

"Haru. How much did you spend on this coat?"

"I think it was around five hundred thousand yen?"

 _"Around_ five hundred thousand yen?"

"Might have been closer to six, I wasn't paying attention." She shrugged, the fox fur trim of her shawl tickling her cheek. "You want to suck information out of the upper echelons of society, I'm helping you look the part."

"What I wouldn't give to be so lackadaisical about money."

"You can always marry me," she said with a laugh.

The venue was a private residence. Newer, flashy, and western-influenced, the walls were decorated with cubist and contemporary art styles. The furniture had been removed from the lower floor to allow space for a large assortment of tables. A few of the older women wore kurotomesode in place of evening gowns, their husbands in a mixture of black tie and traditional robes.

She watched him tense in her peripheral when they entered the main hall. The grimace lasted no more than a few seconds, but the uneasiness continued to show in his eyes.

"I didn't expect to see any familiar faces."

"Politicians?"

"Worse, political benefactors."

"Is it better if you dodge them or talk?"

"Probably talk, and without you."

"I'll make my own rounds." She gave him a small nod. "Find me when you're done."

His demeanor changed the second he started towards the group on the left side of the room, posture flipping from cautious to predatory, a cobra flashing his aposematic display.

"Haru!"

She turned to find two familiar faces barging into her personal space. "It's been ages since I've seen either of you."

"Been busy with work?"

"Yeah, on top of other things."

"On top of things like your new media darling?"

She went beet red as Yukiko and Kaori snickered.

"Was not expecting him here of all places." Kaori took a sip of something pink. "Did your dad finally run out of creepy old men to torture you with?"

"God, I hope. What is that you both have?"

"Some fruit thing with vodka?"

Yukiko made a face. "It's wine."

"Sorry, we can't all have dads who own half the wine import business." Kaori gave a dramatic sigh. "Anyway, it's over here, follow me."

She was handed a small plate and a glass before being ushered to a less crowded area by the patio doors. Barely settled, Kaori gave her a run down of the proposed mid-summer plans and the latest happenings in their ever-shrinking social group. 

"Mie got engaged, finally. I'll forward you the bridal shower info if she ever makes up her mind." Yukiko passed her phone to Haru, a picture of her sister with her new fiancé pulled up. "It's only been, what, four years?"

"They'll probably get married last at this rate."

"I'm just happy she told Mom off the last time she brought up ditching him for a 'suitable' husband. Whatever suitable means these days." She sighed deeply and slumped back against the wall. "Times keep changing and I feel like none of our parents want to admit some traditions aren't worth continuing."

"For real, like the whole political marriage shit. What century are we in?"

"At least both of you were able to get around it."

Yukiko barked a laugh. "Oh, trust me, my mom is still trying. I'm thinking of applying to colleges in Tuscany to stay with my dad and get away from her constant harping."

"Do it, and send pictures. I'd kill for the opportunity."

"You can always come with me, if you want."

"I appreciate the offer, but I've got business here."

"Right, the company. You're probably better off than us for it, though it's like a ball and chain right now."

"And this new suitor doesn't seem bad in comparison, so hopefully this year isn't too much of a pain in the ass for you."

"He's less of a suitor and more of a business partner."

Kaori made a face. "The detective? The detective is a _business_ partner? What the hell are you investigating together, burger seasonings?"

"It's a long story."

"A tall, dark, and handsome long story that is fast approaching, and he's _pissed."_

Haru turned to see an unrestrained look of fury on her date's face as he crossed the last few feet to their small group. "It isn't yet nine and I've already exhausted my patience for dealing with egotistical old men."

"That bad?"

"Beyond abhorrent."

"Let's get you something to drink."

"We're underage, they're not supposed to serve us."

Both Yukiko and Kaori laughed. "No one cares as long as you can hold your liquor," said the latter.

"So…" She looked up at him with big doe eyes. "Scotch?"

"Bourbon. On the rocks."

"You're going to throw it back, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"Come on, I don't know anything about bourbon. We'll be right back."

He waited until they were out of earshot to speak. "They recognized me immediately and I got pulled into some kind of fucking Illuminati coup d'état meeting."

"Which makes sense, you do kind of work for a cult."

"Noted, but currently irrelevant. They want me to do more legwork than usual."

"I don't know what that means because you've never discussed work with me."

"Yes, we should probably talk about that."

Her heart was pounding in her ears. "Do we need to amend our agreement?"

"I—Oh, I think it's our turn. Did you want anything?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

She walked a little too close to his side on their return, unsatisfied with the abrupt topic change. There wasn't a good way to talk about that in company; she'd have to get him alone.

"You look less upbeat than you were a few minutes ago." Kaori put her hand on Haru's forehead when they rejoined. "Everything all right?"

"Just a headache. Would you excuse us for a minute? I think I need some air."

She led him onto the patio, ignoring her friends' poorly disguised ribbing. It was still chilly and she wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders, goosebumps prickling in the evening air. He stood beside her at the stone railing, the city across the river bright against the deep sky.

"What's bothering you?"

"You didn't answer me about what you wanted to do with—" she gestured abstractly, "—this."

"That's why you're moody?"

"Oh, I'm not upset; that was just to get you outside. You bought it?"

He shook his head, hiding a grin.

"I learned from the best." She bumped him with her shoulder. "I do want to know what you were going to say."

"I was going to say I think it's unfair of me to keep my job so vague to you, but I don't want to put you at risk. My employer fights dirty."

"You can give me hints."

"It's still not safe."

"It sounds like you don't trust me to not be an idiot."

"I do, it's just…" He shifted his weight and sighed.

"It's just you don't let anyone in. I've noticed. Reserved, never fully honest, like you're trying to protect yourself from everyone, everything. This is the closest you've come to opening up, isn't it?"

"I don't like this therapy session."

She looked up, meeting his eyes. "They're going to get suspicious of us soon, that we must be scheming something. We're putting in the bare minimum and it's not enough. You need to trust me, at least a little, if this is going to work out."

"What do you propose?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe we should look like we're enjoying each other's company more? We barely hold hands, we haven't kissed."

"I've never done that last one."

"Well." Her mouth felt dry. "Do you want to learn?"

"It wouldn't hurt, I guess."

She turned her body towards him, trying and failing to fight the shakiness out of her limbs. "Mirror me, okay?" One hand cupped his cheek as the other combed into his hair. It was soft, fine, featherlight. She didn't have enough attention left over to feel his hands on her body, to notice if they were even touching her, too focused on the odd look in his eyes. Like a deer in the headlights, nervous, unsure, dazed.

Her lips brushed his quickly, like a butterfly's wing dusting a flower petal. She didn't move away immediately, heartbeat roaring, emotions thick like syrup in her ribcage. Her hesitancy was a prayer, maybe one he understood. Please, _please_ —

The ferocity of his response threw her off balance. Grip like talons on her waist, he crushed her into his skeleton, the resounding kiss a war of lips and teeth, pent-up tension released in a second of carnal clarity.

There had been no reference point for what would happen if he let his guard down in front of someone and it had amounted to this, an over the top reaction to the slightest display of acceptance. The possibility of letting someone see below surface level wasn't an idea he'd ever wanted to entertain, but she took the plunge, claws out. A tiger fishing in abyssal waters.

Out of breath, hazy, he pulled away slowly, the ramifications of his actions crashing as hard as the wave of adrenaline leaving his system. _Fuck_.

"I didn't know you had that in you," she said softly, tongue tracing her lips. "Wow."

"Was that not what you meant?"

"For a public display of affection? No, that is _not_ what I meant." She chuckled and stepped out of his space. "I'm certain my dad would kill you if he saw that. Do you want to try that again with a little less intensity?"

"All right," said the neanderthal part of his brain that had clearly skipped right over the internal conflict.

She tasted of summer wine and sugar-sweet berries, the heat of her skin burning him like the Mediterranean sun. Gentle but restrained, her fingers locked in his hair, one hand on his neck. He felt himself grow lightheaded, detached from the uncomfortable reality that had begun to set in.

The buzz of her phone snapped him back to the present.

"What in the world do they want?" She pulled away and fished the offending device out of her clutch.

"'Stop swapping spit with your boy toy, your dad wants to start the toast soon,'" he read over her shoulder. "You have very charming friends."

"Yukiko's family is old money and it shows but Kaori—who sent this wonderful piece of writing—is a bit wild. Her family owns…" Haru frowned. "An…art gallery." 

There was more to that sentence and he made a note to ask at a better time. "Shall we head in?"

She laced their fingers together once they returned inside, her bare skin against his sending a jolt of electricity up his arm and down his back. He wasn't sure he was enjoying all these new sensations, or feelings. Was the expression on his face obvious? What kind of face was he even making? It felt like it was open season and he had the biggest rack of antlers on his head.

Emotions were just temporary, right? He wouldn't feel like this in the morning. No, in the morning he would be collected, stoic, free of this newfound terrible judgement. Hopefully a round of fitful sleep would knock out the obnoxious taunting of his endocrine system.

She squeezed his hand and flashed that huge, brilliant smile. The buzzing in his stomach started again and his shoulders ached and—

This was too distracting.

"I'll be back after. The girls are probably going to grill you. Text me your answers to their weirder questions so our stories line up."

Grill?

Akechi Goro did not allow himself to be _grilled_.

"We can start with the easy questions first." This girl's hair was dyed a gradient of black to bright fuchsia. The rude one who used boyish pronouns—Kaori, was it? "How the hell did you two meet?"

"We were introduced. My employer has a friendly relationship with the elder Okumura." A lie, but close enough.

"I just can't believe Kunikazu would let some rando threaten his ability to marry Haru off for fiscal gain."

"I'm going to get another round, you look like you need it," said the other girl, Yukiko. Prim, proper, classically Japanese. "Champagne or another bourbon?"

"Champagne is fine."

Kaori slid down in her seat once Yukiko had left to fetch their drinks. Her eyes were a little glassy but still sharp as throwing knives. "You're not after her money."

"I am not. I'm also not interested in this going on for too long." He didn't like the edge in her gaze, or her interest in his intentions. "Haru tells me your parents own an art gallery?"

"That's one way to put it." She laughed. "They're art dealers with a very particular niche."

"Which is?"

"Early modern erotica. My family owns the most extensive private collection of Ēdo period shunga."

"That is…definitely a niche." He had a feeling he was about to be inundated with more unwanted details, but this was better than being scrutinized like a helpless protozoa on a microscope slide.

Yukiko's eventual return was a blessedly cool breeze in the stagnant heat of summer. "Of all the conversation topics available, you always slide into the least socially appropriate choice."

Kaori shrugged. "He asked."

"A polite question does not warrant a detailed explanation of pornography through the ages."

"Well, I think it's interesting."

"You've grown up seeing it as a form of art with historical context, the rest of us have not had that luxury."

"Or maybe you're all just a bunch of prudes." She took an offered champagne flute. "You seemed interested, Mister Detective."

In truth, he hadn't been paying much attention, mind having wandered elsewhere, topic opening avenues of lewder considerations. He was quite thankful for the interruption, and the drink to wash the lingering taste of her from his lips and thoughts.

"How did you three get to know each other?"

Yukiko sat down gracefully across the small table. "Our fathers used to play poker together back when they still had time for that kind of thing."

"Now Yuki's dad basically lives in Tuscany and Haru's dad decided to cut back contact with anyone outside of the business, so we don't see each other as much as we used to."

"Tuscany?"

"My father owns several commercial and private vineyards, it's sort of a pet project of his." Yukiko sighed, gaze lost in the crowd. "He and my mother never liked each other so there wasn't much reason to stay put once my sister and I got older."

"I can't imagine having to deal with that, being stuck with someone you can't stand for the rest of your life for the sake of keeping up appearances. The fact that the arranged marriage tradition is continuing to exist in the twenty-first century is such a bunch of bullshit. No offense."

"None taken, I'm not engaged to your friend."

"Which makes you replaceable. Though the one time she was engaged the guy also turned out to be replaceable, so who knows anymore."

"She was engaged?"

"Yeah. This was, what, four years ago?"

"Three."

"Damn, that recently? He was a long-time friend of the family's son, but they weren't close. Nice kid, nice parents. They did well for themselves but were solidly middle-class. Haru's dad was doing them a favor since he turned Okumura Foods into such a powerhouse. Haru would still inherit the company in this scenario so it was beneficial for both parties."

"But her father called it off without an explanation. About a year later, he had Haru start playing the dating game with heirs to complementary businesses, her company shares on the table as a dowry."

As if on cue to cut off his follow up question, the lights in the room dimmed, conversation ambling to a slow halt. Haru stood beside her father in front of the small orchestra that had been hired for the night. She outshone him without trying, the diamonds around her neck twinkling like starlight.

Her father spoke first, emphasizing that it would be a short interruption. And, thankfully, it was. He gave a generic ' _thank you all for being here'_ speech and handed it to Haru, who repeated similar sentiments in fewer words. They toasted, the orchestra tuned, and the party resumed.

"I see you all are getting comfortable without me." Haru slid into the seat beside him. "Talk about anything interesting?"

"I learned what you meant by art gallery."

She shot Kaori a look.

"I didn't go into detail!"

"There was nothing of note, really." Yukiko folded her hands on the table. "I think I might mingle elsewhere soon, my mother gets upset if I spend too much time with one group."

"Your mom gets upset when you breathe."

"I can't disagree. You're free to tag along."

"Pass for now, I know you're going to talk to Hakase and I can't stand that asshole."

"And you, Haru?"

"I think we're on our way out, Goro has morning obligations and I promised not to keep him up too late."

He nodded, following along with her lie. "It's unfortunate, but I can't seem to find much free time."

"Ugh, I'm on my own then. Call me if you want to go to an after-party later, I think we'll be out until three?"

"Do any of you sleep?"

Haru laughed. "Time is money, you can't network in your dreams."

"How well can you network while drinking?"

Kaori flashed a devious smile. "Better than you'd think. I hear the American businessmen do it in nightclubs high as balls on coke."

"I'll have to decline, I haven't gotten much sleep in the past month." Haru took his hand. "It's almost eleven, ready to go?"

He tagged along while she made a very brief round of goodbyes before slinking out the door. They were quiet on the drive back. He was unsure how to broach any topic of conversation without making a mess of it with wine bubbling in his head. She seemed content, her attention out the window at the city lights.

Quiet trip into the building, quiet in the elevator, in the hall, at her door. He didn't want to be the one to break the illusion, the silence. For once he found himself to be at a loss for words, too much uncharted territory covered in one day to process how to proceed.

"Thanks for coming with me tonight," she said once they were in the entryway. He removed his shoes and she took his coat, hanging it neatly in the hall closet.

"It was my pleasure." And it was in a way, he guessed, standing there awkwardly in his stocking feet.

"Can I have your arm? I can't get these shoes off without sitting down otherwise."

Automatically, he raised one hand to her, letting her steady herself enough to remove her heels. The first one wasn't much of an issue, but she lost her balance with the second, colliding softly with his chest.

She looked up at him, straps of her sandal dangling precariously from her fingers. Her eyes were so big in the semi-darkness of the unlit apartment. Lips pursed, she let out a slow breath. "You are so goddamn pretty."

The shoe fell.

She took his hands and dragged herself away from his mouth for barely long enough to pull him down the hall, having to make frequent stops to yank him down, to lock her fingers into his hair as he smiled into her kisses. Laughter filled the night-stained walls of her quiet apartment like a nocturne, curiosity woven together with eager anticipation.

His jacket came off first, followed by the shirt studs. She paused her assault to run her fingers down the planes of his chest, his abdominal muscles, the sides of his hips. Wordlessly she put his hands on the zipper of her dress, stepping backwards out of it once the fabric pooled gently on the floor. His shirt fluttered to rest beside it.

This was too surreal, happening too quickly, too smoothly. He was getting what he wanted and he wasn't sure how to comprehend it, accept it, enjoy it.

He didn't feel the edge of the bed until he was pushed down onto the sheets, blood rushing like a waterfall in his head. Her small hands pinned his wrists to the mattress, her smile pinning his breath. She asked him something—something like _is this good?_ or _how are you feeling?_ —but he'd forgotten how to speak, how to want to say no, to deny himself comfort.

He nodded.

He hoped she could tell how badly he wanted to feel okay, just this once.

Her legs framed his hips as she balanced above him on her knees, fingers slow with the clasp on the side of his pants, sick with anticipation. Her breath hitched along with his when she tugged down the waistband of his underwear. He could have sworn she whispered something about size but his pulse drowned out the words.

Fabric of her panties pulled aside, she sank down on him, eliciting a low groan from deep in his chest. His mind felt fractured, fried, barely able to keep up with each new source of stimulation. The tightness, the heat of her body, the softness of her breasts.

Overwhelmed.

She was muttering things into his neck that he didn't deserve, words of praise, of awe. Nice things. Caring things. Her teeth were sharp, touch rough, needy. He struggled out a pleading word on a labored breath and was rewarded with her lips on the shell of his ear, nerves popping and prickling with pleasure. He wasn't sure how much longer he could weather the turbulent sea of her hips. 

Was this what it was like, to be wanted?

She rallied to the battle cry of her name drawn from his ragged lungs, kissing him so forcefully, so possessively as he lost the last scrap of his conscious thought to her body. He could die here, he thought, burned alive under the touch of her skin.

"Goro." Her voice was weak, low, still thick with satiation. She wiped a tear he hadn't noticed on his cheek. "It's all right."

He nodded, suddenly drowsy, physically and emotionally exhausted.

"I'll be right back, okay?"

He rolled onto his side, watching as she stripped off her underwear on the way to the bathroom door, shutting it slowly behind her as he in turn closed his eyes.

The clock on the bedside table read three in the morning when he stirred from a dreamless sleep. Disoriented in unfamiliar bedding, the night started returning to him in pieces. He'd joined Haru at the gala earlier, agreed to open up to her for some idiotic reason, didn't go home as they previously agreed, and proceeded to lose his virginity to her.

Well, that wasn't quite what he had in mind about opening up.

He extracted himself from the bed as carefully as he could manage, needing to think. Taking her robe from the hook on her door, he wandered into the kitchen in search of something to settle his nerves.

"Can't sleep?"

He turned from the tea cupboard to find his host wrapped in a blanket, her hair messy and makeup smudged. The neanderthal part of his brain was decidedly proud of the huge hickey she sported just above her collarbone.

She yawned and walked over to join him, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Sorry I didn't wake you up, you looked so peaceful and I wanted to let you sleep."

"I appreciate it."

Her arms wiggled their way around his waist and the touch sent shivers down his spine. "Do you need help finding something?"

"No. I'm not even hungry, mostly trying to collect my thoughts."

"Thinking about anything in particular?"

 _You, mostly._ He ducked and kissed her to see if his stomach would do another flip. Which it did, the sensation running pleasantly along his ribs.

He was so fucked.

"Careful, keep that up and I'm going to devour you," she said against his lips, an edge of dominance in her tone.

"I might even let you."

"Come back to bed, I can cook in the morning."

"I'd like that," he said as he took her hand, letting her lead him through the hall.

He didn't think he'd be the clingy type, but he couldn't help himself from wrapping around her under the sheets. She was tangible, delicate, and more than accepting of his armor and what lay underneath. It made his chest ache.

"Goro, hey, you're crying again." She scooted down to his eye level, brushing his cheek with the back of her hand. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"...No."

She kissed his forehead and pulled him closer. "You can tell me what's wrong, if that would make you feel better."

"No, I—" He needed to get his breathing back under control. "I don't want to burden you with it tonight. Maybe in the morning, but not now."

"Take whatever time you need." She kissed him, over and over, sweeter than the sunrise breaking an endless night. This was a side of her he wasn't used to seeing. Gentle, compassionate, tender. But, he supposed, they were both different people when no one was looking.

He wanted to tell her that he'd been aching to touch her with more familiarity for weeks now, that he'd been going half mad with these new, foreign emotions, unsure how to act, how to put anything into words—

Instead, he held her tighter and settled down into another dreamless sleep.

It had been so long since the nightmares were kept at bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akechi at the start of the night: I am a being free of carnal desires and have no idea what feelings are, sex is of no interest to me  
> Akechi after two drinks: the rich girl wants to take my virginity and I have forgotten how to not want to feel things
> 
> I'm glad I didn't tag this as slow burn because hoo boy
> 
> they are hereby released from horny jail. _for now._ next step: the fallout of horny jail


	3. feelings are for losers, which you are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to keep an update schedule instead of posting impatiently - tentatively every Sunday and Thursday, but possibly every Sunday and every other Thursday. The chapter counter is worthless because this is getting so long and the story is just about to hit June.
> 
> Anyway, horny teenagers make stupid decisions so here's the aftermath and promised self-loathing. You didn't think he'd get soft without hating himself, did you?

The morning sun found him hazy from the night before, mouth dry, eyes bleary. His bedmate dragged him back under the duvet when he started to get up.

"Five more minutes."

"I'm not stopping you from sleeping."

"I want to _cuddle_ for five more minutes."

"So demanding, do you always get what you want?"

"Yes." She yawned and stretched herself across his torso, grip possessive. "I wanted you to join me at the gala and you did. I also wanted you to stay the night, which ended up working even after we agreed you'd go home."

"Was it your plan to sleep with me from the start?"

"I daydreamed about it but didn't think it would actually happen. You've always been so aloof that I didn't want to let you know my feelings had changed." She sighed, content. "I'll admit the cogs in my brain went to work when you screwed up that kiss."

"That was not the vibe I got."

"I thought you'd be the sensible gentleman and go straight home after learning I liked you back."

"Good assumption, I would have."

"Do you regret being a reckless scoundrel for the night?"

"Not for a second." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's been five minutes."

Haru was a good cook.

He was unable to so much as slice an onion the correct way. Classes hadn't helped him improve, so he'd given up long ago and accepted his fate of take-out and instant ramen. Watching her made him wish he'd continued, her delicate hands able to craft something delicious with seemingly random ingredients left in the fridge.

Of nearly no use in a kitchen, he fetched items when asked and let himself fade back into his thoughts. He'd hoped things would have been clearer in the morning, less muddled, but everything was somehow more confusing in the daylight. She seemed at ease, happy, and he wanted so badly to feel the same. Less broken, less uncomfortable.

He sat facing her on a couch in her living room after the meal. There were books on the coffee table and plants bordering the area, a small jungle high in the clouds. She had offered tea, which he declined, knowing the caffeine would only make his anxiety skyrocket.

With a deep breath, before he could hesitate, he began a sad tale of a lonely orphan trying and failing to make peace with his mother's suicide. Of a vicious young man operating on a sunk-cost fallacy, willing to burn if his father burned with him. Of the mental shutdowns, the conspiring party angling for office, the blood that never seemed to wash off his hands. Once he began, words rushed like a thawed mountain stream, continuous, quick, unable to stop.

He hadn't admitted to any of this out loud before, had never given gravity to the situation. Or the bodily harm—committed and threatened, by both Shido and him. How much of his participation was willing? How much was groomed? 

"I was fourteen when they put a smoking gun in my hands and convinced me I pulled the trigger." He let out a shaky breath, ignoring the crack in his voice. "If I turn back now I'm going to be dead in a ditch by the end of the week. This was a losing game from the start and I can't figure out how to stop throwing chips in the pot to play another terrible hand."

She was quiet for a long minute, thinking. "Could you refuse to help?"

"The second I'm no longer useful, I'm dead. That's been made exceptionally clear."

"Wouldn't that attract attention?"

"A missing orphan with no family and no friends? Yeah, that's not hard to cover up." He sighed, running another hand through his thoroughly-disheveled hair. "I've never talked about it out loud, never really grasped how futile this has the potential to be. The issue with revenge isn't that it's petty; it's mindless. Is it even worth it if the end justifies the means?" He laughed, the sound bitter. "That's so Machiavellian, shuffling lives around like pawns on a chessboard."

"I get it, I think," she said softly, knees drawn to her chest. "Torching things because you think you're justified, then finding yourself unable to sleep at night, afraid of what you're becoming. The constant lying, the self-doubt, the having your morality manipulated by the very people you look to for guidance. The sinking feeling that something's not right but no one else seems to listen, or care. We've both been pushed to do shitty things—"

"I made conscious choices, I knew what I was doing."

"And you think I didn't? I knew full well what would happen when helping my father. Hostile takeovers, market manipulation, our investment arm is an infamous _vulture fund_ for God's sake—people lost jobs, livelihoods. There were suicides, too, but that's just the cost of doing business, apparently." She sighed and reached for his hand, taking it firmly in hers. "We have really fucked up fathers, and we've done some really fucked up things, but we don't have to keep following in the footsteps of these horrible men."

"I can't stop until I finish what I set out to do. I won't."

"Is it really worth throwing your life away? Screwing him over while screwing yourself up even worse? Putting others at risk of death?"

 _"Yes!"_ He squeezed her fingers too hard, watched her wince. Regret crept immediately in.

"Do you hear yourself? We're talking about _lives._ Living, breathing people. He's got you so warped and twisted that you're willing to _kill_ for him." She snatched her hand back, fury hot in her voice. "You're no martyr, Goro, you're just a suicide bomber who doesn't care if others burn for your cause."

He watched her jump to her feet like she'd been burned, teeth bared to hide the hurt in her eyes. The quick, heavy sound of her footfalls screamed not to follow, not to tug on the tail on a bristling tiger.

He did it anyway.

"Haru." He leaned against her door, a prickly burr of remorse wriggling its way under his skin. 

"Go home, Akechi."

That stung more than he wanted to admit. "I'm not inclined to leave until we sort this out—"

She flung the door open, causing him to stumble. Her eyes were rimmed red. "Sort out _what?_ You being an unrepentant monster without a fucking conscience? You know exactly what you're doing and continue to do it because you have yet to complete your pathetic revenge plot that you disguise as _justice._ Because you're brainwashed—you're so _fucking_ brainwashed. You fancy yourself an unbeatable chessmaster but you're too damn blinded by your own rage to see how easily you're being manipulated." She made a frustrated, strangled sound. "I'm not your therapist and I'm not going to put you back together like some fucked up childhood trauma jigsaw puzzle."

"I don't want you to fix me."

"You damn well don't make it seem that way."

He let himself collapse, exhausted, against the doorframe. "I don't know how to stop. Either way people die by my hands, indirectly or via inaction."

"The subway derailment. That was you, wasn't it?"

He nodded.

"Why did you do it? Why put yourself—"

"What would happen if you disobeyed your father?"

"I'd be sold off, like cattle at an auction." She trained her gaze on the floor, anger lowering to a simmer. "Point taken."

"I've thought about it, trust me. There's no way out that doesn't involve a death."

"Is that an assumption?"

"There are bodies in the ground of people who refused to cooperate."

"God." She steepled her hands over her mouth. "That's coercion."

"Wouldn't hold up in court."

"How have you been dealing with any of this?"

"Like shit." He let out a heavy sigh. "No appetite, can't sit still, have to work myself to the bone in order to get maybe three or four hours of sleep, the rest of the night filled with horrible dreams or insomnia. I think I lose a piece of myself every time.

"It was a mistake to get involved and it's a bigger mistake to leave knowing what they plan to do after the election. How many people will be fucked over, or killed. It's like Mom all over again. I can't think about the casualties, or the blood on my hands; reality would set in and I'd end up killing myself. And honestly, everyone would probably be better off if I did."

With a pained look, she pulled him into a hug, arms like vice grips around his waist. "I sure as fuck wouldn't be."

"You swear a lot when you're mad."

She scowled but with her puffy cheeks and tear-stained face, the expression lost its edge. "Deal with it."

He returned the hug slowly, unfamiliar with the gesture. He never realized how small she was, personality the size of a skyscraper hiding her tiny frame. He had to bend to tuck her head under his chin. She smelled faintly of rose blossoms and peppermint tea.

"You need to get out."

"Not until I'm finished."

He felt the weight of her sigh on his shoulders. "This is going to bite you in the ass, Goro."

"Doesn't matter."

"Fine. If you're going to be pigheaded about it, I'll help where I can. We made a deal and I don't take promises lightly, but if you let this consume you any more than it already has, I'm out."

"It would be smarter to back out of this promise now." To save herself, from both him and the monster she'd become.

"I can't, for the same reason you opened up to me: emotional attachments are a dangerous, stupid game, and I'm tangled up in you." She tightened her grip. "Now. Do you have anything you need to get done today?"

"For once, no. Why?"

"You desperately need some kind of mindless distraction."

He definitely didn't deserve it, or want it. "Can I decline?"

"Nope."

She corralled him like a herding dog back into her bed, dragging the duvet up around their shoulders until he was trapped in a sea of cloud-soft fluff. Taking no excuses or prisoners, she slapped her hand over his mouth when he tried to protest and pulled up something to watch without his input. He didn't pay much attention to the plot, trying to keep his mind blank from anything other than the slow dance of her fingers just under the hem of his shirt.

One soft kiss became two, three, four. Became his teeth on her neck, a shiver down his back, her body beneath his. The way she looked up at him was protective, possessive, and it made his bones ache, his mind numb.

Lips swollen, thoughts a mess, he rolled onto his side and curled around her, head tucked against her shoulder. "Sorry."

"Sorry for what? Craving intimacy after prying yourself open?"

He nodded.

"That's normal, Goro, you don't have to apologize for wanting to be comforted." She brushed fallen hair from his eyes. "Lord knows you need it."

"I don't think I was emotionally ready for last night." He wasn't really emotionally ready for any of this. He felt like he was on a rollercoaster that had jumped the track. Everything was happening all at once. He didn't want to be here, so wrapped around her it would be impossible to get out without having to dig her out of his chest, to bleed for God only knows how long. He didn't let people in for a reason, didn't form attachments, didn't get empathetic.

He didn't _do this_.

But, fuck, he'd burn himself willingly if it meant he could be something other than bitter for a few minutes more. If he could care about someone again without it eating him alive from the inside out.

Instead of screaming, he let out a controlled breath. "It might be best to slow down with…that sort of thing."

"I'm sorry I pushed—"

"You didn't. I wanted it more than I knew, but it's fucking with my ability to reason now." He paused, steading his spinning head. "I hate to interrupt this train of thought, but I'm overheating. Is it all right if I take off my shirt?"

Her laugh echoed in his body, ribs close to his. "Of course it's okay."

The air in the room was cold on his newly bare skin. Under the covers, he turned his back towards her, embarrassed by this new neediness. "Can you just…" _hold me?_

Arms around his waist, she snuggled closer, anchored him down, away from growing uncertainty that lay beyond the room. "Your back is really toned." He felt her lips against his shoulder. "What do you do for it?"

"Bouldering. You sound surprised."

"I guess I was expecting you to be boyishly thin since it would match your charming high school detective persona."

"I stay active to keep my mind blank, the added musculature is just the result. You didn't notice when you were undressing me last night?"

"I was way too focused on that look in your eyes to take note of anything else."

"What look was it?"

She hummed against his skin. "Like I'd hung the stars for you, and you alone."

"You chased the nightmares away, so I'm inclined to believe you did."

"Hey, you know, as much as I love the pillow talk, it's okay if you want to get some rest."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I could even use a nap myself."

She let him sleep again and God, he needed it.

"I think we both need to go home tonight," she said a little after eight. He'd been in and out of consciousness for a few hours, still drowsy, still unwilling to face the outside world. Lying here in her bastion of bedding he was safe from the cold reality that waited for him on the city streets.

"Now?"

"Yeah, any later and it'll be harder to give a believable excuse."

She attempted to comb the cowlicks out of his hair, determined though it was quickly obvious she was losing the battle. Her touch was delicate, careful, and he leaned into the palm she left to rest on his cheek.

"You have a soft heart under all those teeth, don't you? The cool, calculating exterior is just a ruse."

"It's not a ruse, just a different part of me. Having even a scrap of compassion is a handicap in a boardroom, so I don't let it show."

"It's showing now."

"Well, yeah, I'm not trying to impress you." She looked up at him, small smile on her lips. "I want to see you again soon, once you've got time."

"How soon?"

"The impatient part of me says immediately."

"So should I just go out the door for a second and come back in?"

He wasn't sure he'd ever get tired of her laugh. "Next Saturday, tentative, but I'll take whatever time you have. We can go to that new dessert cafe, I know you're dying to do a blog post about it."

"'Dying to' is an extremely strong phrase, instead I'd use 'mildly interested' or 'have thought about it maybe once.'"

"Fine, I want to try their tea pairings, you can sit there all pretty and pretend you're not fantasizing about sticking straws in your eyes."

He deflated, defeated. "It's a date."

"A _date_ date." She kissed him before leading him out the door and it made his bloodstream bubble. "Text me when you get home."

He didn't.

He felt like he'd been hit by a truck the second he left her building. He couldn't stop his thoughts from swimming, spinning. This sense of security was extremely unwelcome and he wasn't sure how to detach himself from the newfound sentimentality. The flesh under his scaled exterior had grown soft, squishy, and it made a mockery of years spent honing his self-control.

Who _was_ he?

Under the covers on his futon he lay awake, unable to sleep with the gnawing dread that he was losing some part of himself the closer to her he became. He still had venom, sure, but his face looked too friendly, his fangs filed down. 

He was an idiot thinking he could let even a splinter of affection into his necrotic heart and weather the poison it administered. It was stupid to think he could escape the evolutionary mechanisms of his body. Everything was uncontrollable, volatile chemicals—emotions, arousal, the human condition. The desire for companionship, acceptance, love. He could pretend he'd learned to live without, but oxytocin was an insidious, endogenous drug and he'd gotten so high last night. He was risking getting addicted to the endorphins every minute he spent in her company. 

His alarm went off before he was able to get to sleep.

The self-hatred was rushing in, a crack in the dam. He swore to himself he wouldn't reach out to her first. He couldn't, he shouldn't. God, he wanted to.

She was half convinced he ghosted her.

It took him three whole days to respond, claiming he was too emotionally overwhelmed to reach out earlier. Which, while understandable, had put her on edge after he came out with the _maybe I'm better off dead_ revelation.

That had been a lot to process in one morning.

"We're going to have to be low-key from now on."

It was the following Wednesday and she was bogged down by work. He didn't sound happy. "Your fanclub again?"

"It's like every time I turn around they get worse. Now they think the prosecutor I work with is my mother."

Haru frowned. "Isn't she like, twenty-something?"

"Twenty-six. She's got a kid sister our age she looks after but is in no way motherly."

"Do you think they'll try to rationalize me into your sister?"

"I shudder at the thought. We'll have to be careful Saturday if you still want to go to that cafe."

"I do." She leaned back in her chair, disgruntled with the stacks of files on her desk. "We can be smart about it. I have an idea."

It involved a tête-à-tête bench and a little coordination with the cafe. Not ideal, but better than trying to convince him to put on a wig.

"Convenient they had one," he said once he'd arrived.

"Themed cafes do tend to be a little over the top. What better way to scream 'Victorian parlor' than antique seating?"

"More drapery. And while I'd rather be able to see your face head on, this works fine given the circumstances."

She could cheers to that, delicately clinking her third cup of tea to his first.

"Do you have any recommendations from what you've tried so far?"

"I liked the petit fours, but the eclair was lacking. They've been too dry at most pastry shops I've been to."

"I don't like custard anyway, so that's good to note."

"I've been meaning to ask, do you like _any_ of the sweet things you eat?"

He put down his tea and exhaled, steepling his hands against his lips. "I think I've liked a cake enough to order it again once. Not a big fan of chocolate, or cream fillings. Matcha tends to be too sweet and anything tacky is such a pain to eat. Mint flavors are usually the least offensive."

"I'm now under the impression you mostly tolerate things without any enjoyment."

"I enjoy sushi and most meat I've tried. Sometimes ramen depending on the base. And," he turned to her, "I enjoy you."

Little regard for where they were or the number of wandering eyes, she leaned in to kiss him quickly. 

He smiled like an idiot, but his tone was warning. "That was a bad idea; people will talk."

"Let them. I'm not afraid of anonymous strangers on the internet."

"You might not be, but my producer is."

She rolled her eyes. "You're a detective, not an idol."

"According to my popularity poll, I am a…" He pulled out his phone. "'Teenage heartthrob with a polite smile and good hair.'"

"You do have nice hair, especially when you tie it up."

"Thanks, I have no idea how to do anything with it."

"I can teach you if you want."

"No thank you, not knowing things keeps up my mysterious allure."

"This mockingly flirty personality of yours is new, I like it." It made him feel more rounded, a bridge between his regular blunt sarcasm and the soft, fragile side he'd shown her after the gala.

"I'm just learning about it myself. And I—actually, screw it." He reached for her hand across the back of the sofa. "You're right, let them talk. Adds to the mystery."

They sat together in a comfortable silence, hours fading into one another. He took notes in a little leather-bound book while she, now stuck with her non-dominant hand, went over emails on her phone.

In the morning, she woke to texts from both her group chat and him. Yukiko and Kaori were arguing about something. He had sent her a link to a Twitter thread that made her howl with laughter.

"Which is your favorite one so far?"

"I'm between 'purity-stealing burger fodder' and 'Baby Warbucks'. Man, these girls are _mean._ But I guess the first one is kind of right since I deflowered their precious little prince. How does it feel to have your innocence stolen?"

"Ten out of ten, would do it again. Ooh wait, have you seen this? The one with the pancake icon is claiming you're after my _money—"_ He laughed so hard she heard his phone drop. _"You,_ after _my_ money? Why didn't anyone tell me I was sitting on a fortune so I could defend myself from a lecherous hand-holding skank? God I fucking hate these people."

"I bet you could go on national television to say you're very happy in your relationship and they'd think you're blinking in code, _get me out of here!"_

His voice sobered once the laughter died down. "Relationship?"

"We're pretending to be in one." Her throat felt tight, the edge of anxiety on her tongue. "It's not pretend, is it?"

"No." It was soft, barely the length of a breath. "It's not."

"I'm not sure where we go from here. Kind of ridiculous, isn't it? Pretend to date, catch feelings for each other, now have to pretend it's just an act." She sat up slowly, one hand twisted in her bedding. Knots and knots, in the covers, in her chest. "When did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That you weren't pretending anymore."

"The jazz club, the third time," he said after a long pause. "We'd been faking the affection for so long that it started to feel real. I got so lightheaded when you put your head on my chest and I didn't realize why for a while, trying to rationalize I was coming down with something after getting caught in the rain."

"You mistook your feelings for a cold?"

"It's been so long since I was happy that I forgot what it felt like." He cleared his throat. "Sorry to cut this short, but I have to leave for a meeting in a few minutes."

"Don't worry about it. We'll talk soon."

That was definitely a gigantic can of worms she'd need to reopen another day, preferably in person. And with an umbrella. With a sigh, she fell back into her fortress of pillows and finally opened up the group chat.

Haru bolted upright.

These weren't on the thread.

There had been creepy stalker photos, sure, but none of them were of the _kiss_ , or the aftermath. The caption on Kaori's text read _YOU OWE ME BIG OKUMURA_.

HARU: holy. shit.

HARU: what, and I cannot stress this enough, the fuck

KAORI: it is a LONG ASS STORY

KAORI: I'm gonna call in two, go put a bra on or whatever

Haru barely had time to throw on lounge pants before her phone went off, video chat notification buzzing loudly. Yukiko was fully dressed with a full face of makeup, Kaori was barely wearing clothes.

"Where in the fresh hell did you get those pictures?"

"I overheard some dumbass brag that she took them and was going to post online, so I bought them off her for some ridiculous amount. You are soooo goddamn lucky I was in Ikebukuro last night."

"How do you know you got the only copies?"

"Made her delete everything in front of me, went through all the accounts on her phone, et cetera. And told her I'd give her fifty thousand yen if she didn't squeak after a month. So," Kaori said as she folded her hands, "you owe me big. If Daddy Warbucks—have you been reading the tweets? They're fucking hilarious, I'm gonna call your dad that from now on—anyway, if Daddy Warbucks saw any of that, he'd lose his shit. Can't keep using you as a pawn for marriage if you're not discreet about your relationships."

Haru dropped gracelessly into the chair at her desk. "I forgot about that."

"You forgot you're just supposed to be using Mr. Detective?"

"Yes. No, no, I mean, I forgot this is just some step in Father's plan."

Yukiko raised an eyebrow. "You're not faking that smile in the pictures."

"No." She put her head down on the desk. "I'm not."

"Wow, our resident praying mantis didn't eat one this time." She could hear the smirk in Kaori's tone. "What's it like to have feelings for once?"

"Fucking _sucks."_

"At least they're being returned." Yukiko sighed dreamily. "The way he looks at you makes me a little jealous."

"You and like ten thousand other girls, Yuki."

The call lasted another half hour before all three were summoned elsewhere. In the back of a limousine, she found herself unable to move her thoughts away from the pictures now saved in the depths of her phone, to be looked at only in the depths of the night. He looked so….happy, smile reaching all the way to his eyes. It made her stomach flip.

Her father had tea ready when she arrived at the office, the smell of jasmine wafting down the hall to his door. Accepting a cup, she sat and waited for him to begin. It was rare she was asked to stop by on a Sunday, so this wasn't about the business.

"How is the new term so far?"

"Fine, aside from that attempted suicide last week. I have a feeling the school might be sliding downhill."

"Good thing this is your last year. Now," he started as he folded his hands on the desk. "How are things going with the detective?"

"They're well. He's embarrassingly easy to manipulate." She shifted her face into a cold mask. "Shido is using the subway derailment from early April as a pressure point for the Transit Authority. He plans on using public shaming to get them to bend to a new bill he's introducing next week."

"Do you know what the bill is for?"

"No, but I can find out. I do know it'll help his play on the incompetence of the current ruling party when it comes to public safety and security. The general populous seems to find this a major pain point when polled."

"That's very useful. Keep your ears open."

"Understood."

She waited until Friday night to call him again, having left him to his emotions. Better to give him space than get too clingy, especially when he was so damn complicated, flipping between needy and cold like a broken lightswitch.

"I want you to come out with me in a bit." She was toying with her hair scrunchie, hands desperate for a distraction. "It'll be fun, I promise."

"It's already late and we have class tomorrow."

"I'll have you home no later than two."

"That's _late,_ Haru. What if you don't?"

"I dunno, I guess I'll have to run a mile." She clicked her tongue. "Is that a yes?"

"It's a fine, don't make me regret saying yes."

"Perfect. I'll pick you up around ten-thirty. Dress down for once, you'll stand out if you're too polished."

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't the black 911 sitting outside his building, early British punk rock playing from the bass-heavy sound system. The pink underbody lights only heightened the dissonance of the scene.

His fake girlfriend—his beautiful, reckless, idiot fake girlfriend—leaned out the window. "Get in loser, we're going to Daikoku Futo."

Suspicious, he climbed into the passenger side. "I'm afraid of what I've just agreed to."

"Nothing illegal. Well, nothing _terribly_ illegal; I can't get my licence until December. Buckle up, we're screwed if I get pulled over with a fake."

She drove like an _asshole._

They whipped onto the Shuto at a 'modest' 130kph, way over the Bayshore route's speed limit, weaving easily between lanes. The car rode the curves of the highway like water flowing around the bend of a river. She seemed to be in a trance, eyes flickering from mirror to mirror, one hand constantly hovering between the wheel and the gearshift.

He was so, so glad the traffic was light at this hour. Girls could smell fear, right?

"She can clock three-twenty if I really floor it."

"Please don't."

Her laugh calmed his nerves, but just barely. "I'm not doing that off a track, that's way too high risk. Fun, but stupid on the road."

"Question, if I may. Why the hell do you have a car without a license?"

"I own four, actually." She shrugged. "You need to either play golf or love cars to fit in with the old boys. I'm awful at golf, so cars it was. Father is a bit of a nut too, it's one of the few things we've been able to bond over."

"I can't say I know much about the culture of businessmen, but I didn't think they'd be interested in drifting."

"It's one of those things rich older men fantasize about. Wanted to do it in their youth but didn't have the money. Now that they can afford it, they find their reflexes aren't what they used to be and street racing takes on a new level of danger—or they have a family and it's not worth the risk and timesuck. So they live vicariously through reckless people with both youth and money, like me."

Sitting back, he took note of her outfit, how it differed from her usual style. Pink leather bomber, driving gloves, hair pulled away from her face, pants for once. "Are you wearing lipstick?"

"I'll smudge it on you later if you want."

Daikoku Futo was a large industrial area smacked on the highway, a strange parking complex in the middle of the water. After a handful of confusing turns she seemed to know by heart, they pulled into an enormous well-lit area full of cars ranging from daily drivers to absurdly flashy bosozuko designs. The neon body lights made it look like an adult carnival, spectators gathering around four-wheeled midway attractions. She parked in a row of sleek European models intermixed with older Japanese cars.

"Hold on, I have to change my shoes."

"What? Why?"

"They think I drive in heels."

The 'they' in question was a sizable group of guys, ages everywhere from eighteen to mid-fifties. After a number of warm greetings were exchanged, he noticed she wasn't playing a character; her genuine self was, for once, exposed in the wild.

"Looks like Hime-chan has two new toys today," said one of the younger members.

"Ah! Right, I haven't brought the 911 with me before. She's only a few months old."

"Have you named her yet?"

"Nope, I'm waiting to race her first."

"We could do you the honors tonight if you want—Waka has the police scanner hooked up."

She glanced at Akechi across the group. "Not tonight, I promised my guest we wouldn't be out too late."

"Who _is_ your guest, Hime-chan?"

"He looks a little familiar."

"He's my Mozart," she said before the guessing could continue. 

"Why Mozart?"

"Because I've spirited him away during the night to teach him something new, and Mozart's tutors did the same."

"Still an odd pick for a nickname."

"Guess he's cultured like Hime-chan."

"I'd appreciate if you could turn your attention to these sick new wheels." Haru made a grand gesture to the Porsche, shifting all eyes from him. "Please meet the new 911 GT3. With manual transmission, of course."

The conversation successfully dissolved into car talk, of which he understood next to nothing. It was nice to watch someone else work the crowd for once. She was a natural, flitting from feature to feature, manner of speaking bubbly and sharp-witted. Pretty, captivating, and warmly charming. No wonder they bobbed around her like a group of lost ducklings.

Engrossed in his observations, he didn't notice when one of the crew snuck up on him. "You don't seem like a car guy."

"I'm not; I got asked to tag along."

"Are you two close friends?"

"Something like that. Question, why do you call her Hime-chan?"

"Because she's the princess," the older man said with a chuckle. "She showed up with an older, well-maintained sports car at barely sixteen. Looked like another spoiled kid borrowing daddy's car, so she got mocked. Wore that name like a badge and kicked Tenno-sama's ass in a race—he's the one with the bleached tips following her around, kind of our unofficial leader." He leaned in closer. "These kids are too young to remember, but that _was_ her dad's car; he was a king of the circuit in the eighties."

"You're sure that was her father?"

"Yeah, they have the same eyes. And that car was the same terrible color. Who paints a Ferrari purple?"

"Hey Mozart!" She was halfway in the driver's seat. "I'm going to take her for a lap so the guys get to see how she handles. Want to ride shotgun?"

"If you don't," his conversation partner said quietly, "one of the others will." 

"Sure." He climbed in, trying not to look too smug as a few of the younger men whined. "You've got quite the fanclub yourself."

"All the regular girls do; guys like fast women and faster cars."

"What made you come here the first time?"

"Father talked about it a lot. He was on a business trip and my curiosity finally got the better of me. I've never told him, but I'm pretty sure he noticed the kilometers on the car I took. I think he pretends he doesn't know so he doesn't have to reprimand me."

"Odd that he doesn't let you do things he deems a detractor to potential suitors, but turns a blind eye to illegal street racing."

"Maybe because it's the last scrap we have in common. He wasn't always so unbearable. We used to do things together all the time, but now we don't even eat at the same table. I remember when I was around twelve he pulled me out of class to take a road trip up north, just the two of us." She stopped at the top of a long sloping road that snaked through an industrial area beyond the parking lot. "He changed a lot when my grandpa died, and I'd give anything to have his old self back."

Without thinking, he reached for her hand, leather of her gloves soft against his skin.

She smiled at him, melancholic, before rolling down her window to yell at the line of cars behind them. "You boys ready?"

He'd never admit it, but he loved how much of a show-off she was. Flashy, cocky, and overconfident, a dangerous trifecta. She floored the 911 down the hill, shooting off at 175kph and leaving the cavalcade far behind.

"How long have you been driving?"

"Since I was fourteen. Father pulled lots of strings on overseas vacations. He'd kill me if he learned I book track time in his name the second he leaves for business." Her hands moved almost mechanically as she drifted around a sharp corner, shifting to accommodate the acceleration out of the turn. "The strip is coming up, hold on!"

Endless stretch of empty asphalt ahead, she floored it, speedometer climbing steadily to 220kph. Lights blurred as the Porsche roared, engine thrumming. Maintaining the speed for only a few seconds, she slowed steadily, rear wheels screaming as she brought the car to a controlled stop perpendicular to the road. The smell of burned rubber was sharp, acrid.

His heart was still hammering when she pulled him into a long, rough, adrenaline-filled kiss.

"That was exhilarating," she said, a little breathless.

"And terrifying," he said, completely breathless.

"Had fun?"

"I'm afraid to answer in case you do it again. A little too fast for my taste, but yes, I had fun." 

"We didn't even hit two-fifty!"

"How fast do you need to go to be satisfied?"

"I have once— _once_ —been in a Veyron with my dad. If you think I have a lead foot, his is welded to the floor. I think he pushed it to four-hundred on the straightaway. Goddamn scary, that thing. It was a test drive and he didn't end up buying one, so don't tell the guys or they'll be clamoring for more stories."

"They don't know anything about who you are, do they?"

"Nope, and I intend to keep it that way."

She fielded questions for another fifteen minutes while he hovered on the edge of the group, exhaustion hitting him like a truck after the adrenaline crash. The buzz of endorphins was subtle still and his shoulders felt like they were full of helium. Her laugh was sweeter now, smile bigger. He felt a small shiver of pride knowing that, even in a sea of admirers, she still had eyes for him.

"Sorry to cut this short, but I have to get Mozart home before he falls asleep on me."

"Will you be back again next weekend, Hime-chan?"

"The Honda guys from Kyoto are supposed to be visiting."

"I'll have to see what my week looks like," she called out the window as the black coupe bled into the night.

He blinked and they were outside his apartment.

"I hate to wake you whenever you fall asleep," she said by way of explanation. "As promised, home before two. Sorry if this wasn't a great night—"

"I had fun. Really. I like that you show me these little-known things about yourself."

He could swear she blushed in the dim lights. "I wasn't even thinking about that. I've been ruminating on what you said last Sunday and wanted to do something with you for the sake of enjoying it, because it makes me happy to see you happy."

A small fear that she was far, far too nice for him wiggled into his brain. He shook it aside and reached for her hand. "You didn't have to do that."

"But I wanted to."

He kissed her quickly but firmly, fingers tangled with hers, one hand on her cheek. He couldn't bring himself to say anything too soft, too sappy. "I have to go or I'm going to fall asleep in your car again."

"Text me when you get in."

This time, he did.

* * *

because I went through the effort, have a sketch with an admittedly traced car

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was brought to you by blinding lights on repeat for 4 straight hours.
> 
> Healthy coping skills? Never heard of her.


	4. jealous again? pathetic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm considering adding in doodles going forward - there's one at the end here and I put up one of Haru with her car on last chapter!  
> I am still overjoyed with the comments and am so glad y'all are enjoying this.

If Sae had to interact with one more teenage girl today, she'd quit. Or, at least, move to Tomohiro's desk—he was still on vacation, right? Whoever thought to put her at the front of the legal team's office definitely had a twisted sense of humor.

A few knew who she was, most didn't, all wanted her to pass on some kind of wrapped confection to the department celebrity. Why did she get tasked with playing secretary to a kid nearly ten years her junior?

He'd been a rising star for a while now, but this was plain ridiculous, her workspace overwhelmed with hand-dyed scarves tied around neat little boxes. Did she miss white day? Wasn't it _June?_

"Excuse me."

Another teenage girl.

God damnit.

"Did you also bring something for the pile?" she asked, gesturing to the growing stack.

"I don't think so? I'm looking for Goro."

Then yes, she probably was.

But this one acted differently. She wasn't timid or embarrassed, her tone polite but firm. Both of her hands were occupied with the handles of a leather briefcase and the Sae recognized the brand of shoes she wore to regularly cost upwards of two hundred thousand yen. Not the usual type tonight, but an annoying interruption nonetheless.

She was ready to send her packing when the girl opened her mouth again. "What _is_ that pile, anyway?"

"Birthday chocolate for the boy in question, if I had to take a guess."

"That's…really quite a lot."

"You're telling me."

"My apologies for asking twice, but I'm in a bit of a hurry. Do you know if he's in?"

"He's working tonight, but I believe he stepped out for some air," Sae lied. Akechi hadn't left his desk since he clocked in.

The girl checked her watch with a frown. "I suppose I can wait for a few minutes."

"I can always take a message."

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm here on personal business, not professional, and I wouldn't want to waste your time with something so small."

A thought clicked. "You're the girlfriend, aren't you?"

The girl's smile grew tense. "What gave it away?"

"No chocolate and you referred to Akechi by his given name." And the expensive shoes, and the Cartier watch. They'd been wondering how he managed to frequent upscale restaurants on a student budget; she was definitely a plausible answer. "Not to mention he uses you as an excuse to leave early, though we always thought it was a bit of a lie."

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "He uses work to cancel on me all the time."

"He's upstairs at the moment—apologies for lying earlier but we can't have unknown guests wandering. I can call him down if you'd like."

"No need, I know where I'm going." She gave Sae a small bow. "Thank you. Please feel free to take some of the chocolate; he's not fond of sweets and I promise he won't miss them."

The girl returned fifteen minutes later without the briefcase, a smile still lingering on her face. She waved to Sae, now at Tomohiro's desk. _Smart choice_ , she mouthed as she left as gracefully as she'd arrived.

Sae would have to grill Akechi later about how he'd managed to keep her a secret.

He appeared downstairs an hour later in a preposterously well-fitted suit. Gaze moving from Sae to the pile on her empty desk, he swore.

"I think it's my birthday."

Sae, across the room in Tomohiro’s seat, gave him a look. "You _think?_ Wasn't that why your girlfriend dropped by?"

It was his turn to shoot daggers.

"She was the only one to come without a box of chocolates, it wasn't a hard deduction." Sae narrowed her eyes. "Where have you been hiding such a high-profile heiress?"

"Not in a good enough place, evidently." He glanced at his phone. "And I'm going to be late, so it'll have to be a story for another time."

Shido's office always made him feel violently ill. The overpowering smell of cheap cologne, lingering smoke from a cigar, and thick brandy turned his stomach unpleasantly. He felt a pop of anger at the thought of the new suit picking up a truly offensive odor from having to step foot in this torture chamber.

"Going somewhere work related, I hope?"

"Yes. The Okumura girl has invited me out to dinner with the hint of a more intimate setting to follow, which I intend to take full advantage of. She's becoming more comfortable around me and has been letting some worthwhile information slip. I'll pass it along once I can check the validity."

"Taking advantage in an intimate setting? You're becoming a man, Akechi."

Pride swelled in his chest, followed quickly by disgust. He smirked. "Women tend to have looser lips after being fucked raw, don't they?"

"They do, but be wary, they can be quite tempting when you let your guard down." Shido folded his hands under his chin. "I look forward to what you're able to pull out of the girl. You're dismissed, wouldn't want to make you late."

The whole night felt spoiled, the elation at receiving attention curdling worse than month-old milk. The restaurant didn't deserve his bad mood. It was snuggled into the way-back of an aquarium, tanks of exotic fish taking up nearly every wall. Effortlessly beautiful, like his dinner date. A twinge of guilt picked at his sternum as he watched her face fall from across the table.

"Don't tell me I got this all wrong and you're upset because you hate your birthday. I'm sorry, I thought I was being clever with the surprise, I didn't mean—"

"Slow down, no, that's not it. I don't usually remember my birthday since it's depressing to celebrate alone every year, but I'm not upset about this. I'm surprised you got a table." He pulled his expression into something acceptable, but she wasn't buying it. "I had a meeting with Shido beforehand and it ruined my appetite."

"Do you want to reschedule?"

Reschedule? Reschedule at a Michelin-star restaurant that definitely had a several-month-long waiting list? That she had definitely called some time last week for reservations? He laughed at the absurdity. "No, but I can't help but find it comical sometimes, how you can just flippantly offer to do something the rest of us only dream to have the money or power to."

"I've never really thought about that part of it." She tilted her head, blue tourmaline earrings twinkling in the low light. The flames from the candles flickered on the polished surface, drawing his attention to her face. "I don't like taking advantage of my status, but I've been doing it more often for you."

"What do you mean, for me?" The jealousy hiding under his tone was revolting.

"Your childhood sucked, and most of your young adulthood has sucked too. I can't fix that, but I want to do what I can to give you nicer things."

"Is that why you keep doing things for me? Pity?"

"What? Goro, no." She reached for his hand across the table. "It's not pity. It's more like sharing, I guess? My status affords me opportunities most don't have access to, and I want to share them with you."

He was quiet, trying to process her words. Her motivations never seemed to make much sense to him, how she made a point to put him first. The Okumura girl, heiress to a staggering fortune, kept putting the miserable, unwanted orphan before herself. Again and again, with no solid logic behind it.

She squeezed his fingers, pulling him out of his darkening thoughts. "I don't think I'm explaining myself very clearly. Trying to express my feelings seems so convoluted and superficial next to how you do it."

"I wasn't aware I did it."

"Why do you think you're so handsy?"

"I'm not handsy."

She rolled her eyes. Hard. "And water isn't wet."

"Examples, please."

"Every time we study together, I stay on my side of the couch and you slowly creep over like some freezing reptile drawn to a space heater until you've overtaken my space—and you're weird about it too. Either your head's in my lap, or you dig your feet under me, sometimes you reposition me so you can curl up on my chest like an overgrown cat. You've stayed over twice since the first night and I swear it's like you're trying to play a game where you have to touch me every so many minutes or you'll burst into flames. And after protesting for like two weeks that it was a terrible idea you're now constantly reaching for me in public—"

"I get the picture."

"Good. And I don't mind it, I think it's cute you're so hungry for physical affection."

He minded it. Did he always come off so pathetic and needy?

"Anyway," she started, sparing him from more embarrassment. "I've heard the course with the quail is really superb."

"I've never had quail."

"First time for everything."

Too much of the night lost after a long dinner to get home at a reasonable hour, he let her talk him into staying overnight. She claimed he had everything he needed for class (true) and that her apartment was closer to his school anyway (barely, but he'd let her have it). She was chatty the whole way there, bubbly small talking filling up space. He wasn't a fan of wasting time with meaningless conversations, but he'd started to take an interest in her daily happenings. It was nice to have a little normality, even if her version of normal was wildly different than his.

"I have a little present for you, too," she said once they'd stepped through the door.

He let her lead him to the couch, fingers entwined. "You bought another suit, paid for a very expensive dinner, and also got a gift?"

"I live to please." She pulled two beautifully wrapped boxes from behind the cushions. "I lied, it's two presents."

Nothing was more than enough; this was overkill.

Sitting beside him, she handed over the largest of the pair. "This one first."

It was a dart set. Silver shafts with red and white flights. They were exquisitely balanced, weight even throughout.

"I know you mentioned you disliked the sets at the billiards club one whole time, but I saw these when I was out and thought of you."

He wasn't sure what to say. "You remember everything you hear, don't you?"

"Memory like an elephant, so watch yourself. The last one is really two pieces."

She seemed far more excited about giving him things than he did receiving them. It felt uncomfortable in a way, as though his reaction was being scrutinized. He took the next box gingerly, trying not to cue her into his conflict.

A gold watch with a black leather band. The face itself looked older, vintage, with a variety of complications—moonphase with a triple date. The band was new, intricately stitched, the craftsmanship beautiful and meticulous. He felt like he shouldn't be holding such nice things.

"We have a leather guy we really like, he does everything by hand and sources his material himself. The band is kangaroo; it's a really sturdy material. If you don't like it, I can—"

"Thank you." Those were the words he'd been struggling for. "I'm a little overwhelmed."

"Good overwhelmed or bad?"

"The latter." He sucked in a breath. The gnawing sense of inferiority that had been dragging itself up his throat all evening moved his mouth before he could shove it down again. "You can have anything you want, and you keep picking me." _Don't look at her, don't look, don't let her see your mask is fracturing, crumbling—_ "Why do you keep picking me?"

She sighed, expression pained. "This wasn't supposed to be a vivisection."

"Haru."

"Because I want to." She rested her hand on his thigh, her touch soothing but not enough. "I see the jealousy when you look at me sometimes, and I get it. Everything looks perfect on the surface, but material wealth is superficial and I'm screwed up too. Maybe that's why I picked you, we're both lonely people with daddy issues."

Emotions were horrible beasts.

He twisted to kiss her, craving the affirmation of her skin. One of her hands curled into his hair, the other rested on his chest. He let his teeth catch her lips, rough actions matching the rougher sea hiding behind the slight tremor of his limbs.

Carnal wants were still so new, so fascinating. Her quick, labored breaths were encouragement, a symphony of mutual desire. One hand slipped under the neckline of her dress, breast soft, warm, nipple already puckered—

"Goro, stop." She pushed him away, grip firm on his shoulders, anchoring him back in reality. Her face was flushed, chest heaving, pupils blown. "This isn't good for you, or your emotional state. At all."

"You want this, though. I've seen how you look at me—how you _are_ looking at me."

"Of course I want this, but not when you're trying to fill a hole in yourself with physical pleasure. Yes, it feels nice, but remember how much it screwed you up last time?"

He let his body relax, finally, and slumped into the back of the couch. "How long are you content to wait for me to be okay?"

"Until you're ready."

"What if that takes until the heat death of the universe?"

"Then I guess I'm going to be consumed with lust until the heat death of the universe."

"That's such a long wait."

"Yeah, well, you felt amazing under me and I'm not going to be satisfied with anyone else." She swore. "We both need to calm down. Topic change, I am exhausted and it's late, are you ready to get some rest? Or do you want to stay up a little bit and watch another episode of that drama we started last week?"

He didn't have the heart to tell her that he didn't care for the show, or dramas in general. It was just an excuse to curl up next to her and think. Under the covers, he laid his head on her chest and picked apart that small breakdown, the root cause, how to prevent it in future. Having to interact with Shido on the same day he spent time with her definitely hadn't helped his stability.

She had been right at dinner, he used touch to convey his feelings. Words were clumsy and forced him to think about their meaning. Voicing something made it less abstract, more tangible.

Admitting even that much was exposing a vulnerability, a weakness.

He didn't notice when she turned the TV off, plunging the room into semi-darkness. The lights of Tokyo glittered outside the two walls of floor to ceiling windows.

"It feels like we're in a fishbowl," he said as he sat up.

"I like to keep the shades up on school nights, helps me get up in the morning. Is it bothering you?"

"No. I don't think I've ever noticed the view from here, though."

"It's one of my favorites, tied with the ski house."

"I'm afraid to ask how many residences your family owns."

"Three. Ski house, Tokyo house, beach house. Father intends to buy an apartment in Europe if the board approves expanding Okumura Foods internationally, but that's at least two years away." She yawned and propped herself up on an elbow, free hand painting swirling patterns on his arm. "I'll take you up to the ski house in December if you want. The Hida mountains are breathtaking in winter."

"As part of a family vacation?"

"Heavens, no. My dad doesn't get that kind of time off; it would be just the two of us."

"And you'd be driving?"

"I'd prefer to, it's nice to see the country from the road." She groaned at his wince. "We can take the slow car."

He had a feeling their definition of slow was vastly different, but he didn't get a chance to ask before settling in to sleep.

His alarm went off first at quarter to six. Too damn early. No wonder he was constantly drained. She was about to get up to turn it off when he stirred.

"Sorry, I usually bike on Friday mornings." His voice was thick with drowsiness.

"You really don't sleep much."

"I have slept better and for longer stretches in this bed than I have anywhere in years." He rolled over, chest to her back, and was out cold before she could tell him how worrying that was.

She woke to the coffee machine in the kitchen chiming it had finished brewing. Barely awake, she shuffled out to fix her cup on autopilot. There was enough time to make breakfast, but that required effort. Were there any eggs left in the fridge? Nope. Toast it was.

"I thought you were more of a tea person?"

His hair was damp but he was dressed already, somehow fully awake.

"I drink tea to enjoy it, I drink coffee to not be a zombie."

"What kinds do you have?"

"The black one."

"Poetic as always." He shooed her from the counter and placed a travel mug under the machine. Opening a drawer of pods, he frowned. "You weren't kidding."

She watched his hands as he prepared his morning poison. The careful movement of his fingers was a little mesmerizing, hands free of gloves and arms mostly bare in his summer uniform. She hadn't really taken note of how built he was before, well-defined but lean, wiry. Were his forearms always so vascular?

"Oh, you're wearing the watch."

"Yeah, I really like it. I'm sorry for coming off as ungrateful yesterday. I haven't been properly gifted anything for my birthday since Mom died and I didn't react well."

"Apology accepted. I'm just happy you're happy."

"You'll have to show me how to set the complications later, I don't know a thing about watches."

On tiptoe, she kissed him. "I'd be delighted."

It was one stop to Shujin from her apartment and she was unbearably early. He had a transfer and another twenty minutes of travel, but she insisted on leaving at the same time. Which put her in class at barely eight.

HARU: remind me to let you leave first next time

HARU: I'm going to fall asleep before homeroom starts

GORO♡: Told you

GORO♡: Bold of you to assume there will be a next time

HARU: (눈‸눈)

HARU: you're horrible

GORO♡: I am, and yet you still want to date me

GORO♡: Admit it, you're just using me for my fame, you… What are they calling you today?

GORO♡: There's no fun epithet, it's just a thread insinuating you're seducing me with money

HARU: everyone knows the way to a man's heart is throwing wads of cash at it

GORO♡: While I am always in the mood for cold hard cash, the way to mine is definitely sushi

HARU: sooooo dinner tomorrow night? 

GORO♡: You wanton temptress

GORO♡: I'm in

The Phantom Thieves blew up over the weekend and Goro was at the center of the madness, journalists and local anchors chasing him down for his opinion on the Madarame case. 

She caught one of his TV interviews on rerun Friday night. He was beyond unrecognizable, expression and mannerisms carefully crafted for the charismatic mask he wore. Even his speech pattern was different. Haru realized she'd never seen the character he played before and she…

Didn't like it.

"Do you think you're up for the case, Akechi?" asked the program's host.

"Of course," said the fake Goro with a brilliant smile. "I'm confident in my ability to bring them to justice. After all, our society is nothing without law and order."

She stood frozen in front of the television, watching the stranger wearing her partner's face. It would have been nice, she supposed, if this face and the comfortable, easygoing nature on it were the real thing. For his sake. An alluring, charming young man without the trauma.

Instead of a deadly viper with beautiful scales and oversized fangs.

"I caught the tail end of your interview," she said later, finally calling him after nearly a week of busy silence. "I don't think I've actually seen your princely act before."

"How was it?"

"Disturbing, knowing the real you." She wrinkled her nose as she closed the door to her room. "Though I can see why they love you; you're very handsome on camera."

"What about off camera?"

"Ugliest person I've ever met in my life."

He barked a laugh. "You're lucky you're cute."

"Off-topic but before I forget, we're going to Elba for a week and a half after the term ends in July. I'd like you to come, but understand if you can't get away from work."

"I'd love to, but I can't leave for that long." He sounded upset, genuinely.

"I figured as much, but wanted to extend the offer just in case. Maybe we can go somewhere for a weekend when I get back?"

"I'll have to see, especially with how things are developing. On a better, also unrelated note, I do have some good news. I made an acquaintance today."

"Really? Another adult?"

"Someone our age."

"Look at you branching out. Where did you meet?"

"There was a high school class on set this morning and I exchanged numbers with one of the visiting students. His thought process is interesting. We agreed to speak again later, as if I weren't already overbooked."

"I'm happy for you, really. It'll be nice to have another person to talk to."

"Getting sick of me finally?"

"You wish. It's good to make more genuine connections. Never hurts to have friends."

"I wouldn't know. You're the first person I've become close with."

"Don't say such depressing things over the phone." She couldn't hug him through the receiver.

"Fine, then I'll say it again in person next time we see each other."

"When will that be?"

"I…don't know. Exams are in a month and this new vigilante group is making work hell. Isn't quarter end coming up?"

Shit, it was. "How is it already mid-June? Yeah, I'll be busy with Father in the evenings for the next few weeks. Maybe we can study together next Sunday?"

"That sounds doable."

He ended up blowing her off to spend time with his new acquaintance. Which felt shitty in the moment, but he quickly shucked the negative emotion. She'd understand, right?

The boy, Ren, was peculiar. Aloof but personable, seemingly transparent about his motivations. Akechi envied the ease with which he spoke, the candor.

It infuriated him.

"You're going easy on me."

He stood slowly after taking his shot, trying to read Ren's body language. "How do you figure?"

"You're playing with your right hand. Everything else I've seen you do tonight has been with your left."

"Good eye." He watched, cautious, as Ren overshot a pocket. "Not many notice."

"With how well you're playing, I believe it." He rested his hip against the table. "Yikes, that was a bad one. How did you get so good?"

"Years of having to be in the company of drunk older men thinking they were gods at billiards. Boiled my blood."

"Something of a sore loser?"

"You could say that."

Ren chuckled. "So am I. Don't worry, I'll take this one in stride; you're thoroughly kicking my ass."

"Certainty the more graceful option." He sunk the last solid. "Have time for another game?"

"As much fun as I'm having, I'll have to decline. It'll take another hour and I have to finish some homework I've been neglecting all weekend."

"Another night," he agreed.

"But, if you're still dying to see how the other half lives, I was going to stop by the pork bun shop before heading home. Wanna come?"

"Gladly, I've been meaning to try their kare-man."

He couldn't help but feel jealous of how jovial the other boy seemed. He made small talk with the cashier that was downright natural, organic. He winked at Akechi and smooth talked the girl into two extra buns, free of charge.

"Cheers," Ren said, bumping his wrapped food against Akechi's. "Thanks for inviting me out tonight, I had a blast."

"It was my pleasure."

"I saw a few dartboards in the back, do you play as well?"

"I do, for my own enjoyment. The drunks weren't allowed to throw sharp objects."

He laughed, mirthful. Akechi felt his anger prickle, mixed with something pleasant, unidentifiable. "You'll have to let me know next time, I've always wanted to get into it. Better to do it with friends than alone, right?"

Friends?

"Right. I'll let you know, maybe next week?"

"It's a plan." He gave a small mock salute and headed towards the stairs to the JB line. "See you!"

Akechi waved, a little stunned, not sure what to make of the evening. Friend wasn't a word in his vocabulary, but it made him a little lightheaded, a little less lonely.

He wasn't sure how much he liked it.

* * *

now kith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder how much longer she can tolerate being in horny jail before she snaps.
> 
> Edit 7/16: the answer is not much longer and I'm going to be bumping the rating up to E next chapter. whew.


	5. your self control was always a farce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Some minor changes:
> 
> There's a suggested second pairing but I don't think I'm going to get too into it.  
> Minor Royal spoilers are starting.  
> Helllllloooooooo E rating - if that's not your jam do not fret, nothing plot important happens during the spicy part and you should be able to skip over it with no issue
> 
> No art atm but I might add some later!

"I really wish you were here, the weather is perfect."

It was quarter after nine on a Friday and he was already in for the night. Seven hours behind, the sun was still high over the coast of Elba. Haru's hair drifted dreamily in the sea breeze, a portrait of feminine grace. His video thumbnail was too small to scrutinize, but he was half convinced he looked like an underfed goblin.

"How do you even have service in the middle of the water?"

"Yuki's dad has a tower on the yacht. Don't ask me how much that cost, I don't want to know either."

"Does he live on the boat?"

"For a lot of the year, yeah. Let me give you a tour." She stood and flipped the camera view. "This is the lower deck, there's the pool, few deck chairs, and that's the bar inside."

"Good fuck."

"If you're going to swear, you have to do it in Italian, those are the house rules."

"Well then excuse me, have to search for—ah, I don't know how to pronounce this. Porcoddio?"

She giggled, the sound like soft bells. "Close enough. Oh, I didn't know anyone was down here."

The camera adjusted to the darker interior where the friend with the dyed hair—Kaori?—was seated at the bar. There were two glasses of wine and a bottle beside her.

"Toru went upstairs to do…something, so here I am. Is that your handsome prince on the other end?"

Don't call him that, he looked like a gremlin with bad hair that got stuffed into pajamas against its will.

"Yeah, I'm giving him the grand tour."

"Bummer he couldn't make it this time, but I'm sure we'll be back soon. Yuki's dad likes to pretend he's a pirate or something and never leaves this boat. If you see my dumb brother up there can you send him back down?"

"Absolutely." The view moved up the stairs and opened onto a lounge twice the size of Haru's apartment. "This is the main entertaining area, and the middle deck is off to the left over there." She moved the camera to point towards another enormous space. Several adults were seated outside on a circular sofa, charcuterie board and wine on a table in the middle. "Her father has some business associates over for an early dinner tonight, so you'll have to wait to see that."

"That is perfectly fine, I already feel overwhelmed."

"Then I'll show you where I'm staying and we can call it a night." She navigated through another galley, down a half flight of stairs, and opened the door onto a view of the coast. "This is my room, but Kaori, Yuki, and I have been camping up on the top deck since the weather is so nice."

He felt oddly homesick.

"I am sorry I couldn't get time to come with you."

"We'll go somewhere when I get back, promise. Start thinking of where you want to visit."

"I will. I'm going to go forage before my stomach digests itself."

"Go eat, I'll text later."

Instant ramen, again. He could swear he was losing weight without her around, terrible eating habits crawling back into his routine. His strength had definitely made a sharp decline; having to work her into his day made him keep a tight schedule. Without her, he worked constantly and barely ate. 

Sitting at the small table in the middle of the apartment, he went back through his emails and texts. Work, work, work, Sae sending a meme in the group chat, work. One unanswered text from Ren.

_What are you up to this weekend?_

Better late than never.

AKECHI: Are you doing anything tomorrow?

AKECHI: The aquarium in Shinagawa has a new dolphin exhibit opening. One of my work acquaintances was kind enough to give me her extra tickets. Would you want to come with me?

REN: Sure

REN: But only if we get to see the penguins

AKECHI: Deal, I'll meet you there at seven

He drafted half of a text to Haru about it and stopped. She'd be happy for him, but why did it feel like…

Cheating?

He wasn't attracted to Ren. He wasn't even sure he liked spending time with him, but he kept agreeing to hang out. He wanted to. It was like peering into the looking glass to see what could have been had he grown up with support and care. Treated as an equal and not a worthless bastard child. Loved by someone.

Happy.

"It's not cheating, dummy." His disgruntled (fake? real? both?) girlfriend was on a floatie in the middle of the yacht's pool, colorful smoothie in one hand. She was balancing her phone precariously between her knees, the angle giving him a generous view of her cleavage. "You don't want to kiss him, you don't want to have a deep emotional entanglement with him, it's not cheating."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" She pushed her sunglasses down her nose. "God, Goro, it's not cheating if you like hanging out with someone. Most people enjoy doing things with other people in addition to their partner. And I don't think it's healthy to only have one person you rely on. Am I cheating on you because I'm with friends?"

"No."

"Then stop feeling so guilty and have fun tomorrow. And go to bed, isn't it after midnight?"

"I'm in bed."

"Sleep."

"That is a very flattering top."

"Go to _sleep!"_

She texted almost immediately after ending the call.

HARU: I wish you were here so I could take you back to my room and have you rip it off with your teeth

AKECHI: Horny today, aren't we?

HARU: you don't know the half of it

AKECHI: Want to know what I'd do if I were there?

HARU: yes please

AKECHI: I would slowly loop my fingers under the straps, pull it down off your shoulders, and

AKECHI: I'd go to sleep

AKECHI: Goodnight~

HARU: go to hell goro

Oh, he would. He was going straight to hell, right after attending some important business.

  
  


"He still gives me the weirdest vibes."

Morgana was digging his little claws into Ren's shoulder, trying to get purchase enough to whisper. It was close to seven and they were running late.

"I think it's time to cut your nails."

"Hell no!"

"But yeah, I get a strange vibe too."

"Why did you agree to go?"

"He's got police connections and hates us, so it would make sense to keep enemies close." Ren adjusted his grip on the overhead rail. "Also he seems kinda lonely."

"You have to stop picking up strays."

"Starting with you?"

"I'm serious. We just added Makoto and Yusuke, and Yusuke is a handful by himself. And expensive."

"We need to have an intervention about his spending habits. How much did he say he made in commissions last month?"

"Like three hundred thousand yen, and then he spent it all on materials, again."

"On second thought, I'm not sure any of us can talk him into keeping a budget."

"You're probably right. Oh, our stop is next."

It had been years since he'd last gone to an aquarium. Both parents constantly working, their family trips had been few and far between, cramming as many things as possible into the short days they had off. Thinking of parents, he should probably call them later.

Akechi was easy to spot at the entrance, in part due to the halo of girls too far to be company and too close to be minding their own business. He waved to Ren, parting the sea of estrogen.

Blue button down with the sleeves rolled up, white pants, brown leather loafers. He looked like he belonged on a boat. "Do you always dress business casual?"

"I'm usually coming from the office, so yes. Shall we?"

It was blessedly cool inside. Colorful fish swam in tanks that lined the main hall. Directions to the sharks were on one wall, there seals and dolphins on the other. A long underwater corridor seemed to be one of the busier attractions, and they made the mistake of visiting it first. Something about the crowd seemed decidedly off.

Ah.

"Have you noticed it's all couples?"

"Is it?" Akechi looked around, a grimace flashing quickly on his face. "It is. The atmosphere is definitely romantic, I suppose it would have made more sense to bring my girlfriend. I apologize in advance if my dreaded fanclub spreads any rumors after tonight."

Back up. "You have a girlfriend?"

"You sound incredulous."

"It's just unexpected, probably because having a fanclub makes you seem like an idol." Also the fact that he was so reserved. They'd hung out more than a handful of times and Ren still couldn't get a good reading on him. "You sure she's not imaginary?"

"I'm quite positive. She's in the middle of the Tyrrhenian sea at the moment."

"That sounds made-up."

He sighed heavily, but a smirk betrayed his amusement. "It's off the coast of Tuscany in the Mediterranean."

"Got any pictures?"

"Jealous?"

"I will be if she's pretty."

"Trade, you have to show me this girl you keep talking about making a move on only to chicken out."

"That's a hard bargain, chief. Shake on it."

This felt like a blood pact.

"Shit, she's _cute."_ He scrolled through the feed on Akechi's phone. All of this girl's new pictures were definitely on a boat, a really fucking big boat. There were a few photos of Akechi with her sprinkled between cars and plants. He looked grouchy in every single one with a cat filter, but was relaxed and comfortable in a handful of candids.

"Satisfied your urge to snoop?"

"Yeah." He handed the phone back. "You guys look cute together."

His expression didn't change, but his eyes seemed to light up. "Your turn."

Why was this so embarrassing? Maybe it was worse because, unlike Akechi, he didn't follow his crush-girl-thing on social media. And her profile wasn't private. "I feel like a stalker, but here."

Akechi cocked an eyebrow. "Yoshizawa?"

"Don't tell me you know her."

"Her father hosts Good Morning Japan so I've spoken to her on set a number of times. I didn't expect that to be your type."

"What were you expecting?"

"I guess more…how do I put it politely? Dominant?"

"See, that's what I thought you'd be into."

"Oh, I am."

That was both too much information and not enough. He had so many follow-up questions that weren't setting-appropriate. "You've got to be kidding me, your girl looked like she was made of sugar."

"She's far from it; appearances can be very deceiving. I could set us up on a double date if you want to see for yourself."

"Hell no. The last thing I need is a matchmaker."

And yet, he managed to find himself seated at a table between the Akechi and Kasumi a few days later. He could feel his phone buzz every few minutes, likely Ryuji in the group chat about the planned infiltration in a few hours. Ren was glad his unexpected company couldn't see—they were both discussing their dislike of the PT.

"Ren tells me you have another competition coming up soon." He did not. "Do you think you're ready?"

"I hope so, I've been training pretty much all day every day since break started." 

"That's quite a lot of dedication to your sport, and discipline."

"It is, but so rewarding to see my hard work pay off. Do either of you participate in a sport?"

"I boulder when I get the chance."

"Bouldering?" Ren finally entered the conversation. Rock climbing would explain why his wrists were so tendon-y. "I thought you'd be more of a runner." 

"With these shoulders? I'd be a sail in the wind."

Kasumi's face lit up. "I've always wanted to learn how to boulder. Do you train indoors?"

"At the moment. My girlfriend and I are planning a trip to Ogawayama when she gets back this weekend and I'd like to try one of the bouldering areas there."

"I didn't know there was a train that went out there."

"There isn't; she's driving."

"You sound uncomfortable with the prospect." Ren leaned on the table. "Is she a bad driver?"

Akechi grimaced. "No, but she's got a fast car and a lead foot."

"It must be nice to have time to get away," Kasumi said as she stretched her arms. "Speaking of free time, I feel like I'm close to running out of mine."

"As am I. Ren, are you ready to leave?"

"Yeah, I should get going." Ryuji would probably come looking for him if he didn't show his face soon. 

"I think we're all going to the same station. Shall we?"

And the bastard left him alone with Kasumi on the platform.

Dick.

Haru's phone went off as soon as they landed. Ten hours in the air amounted to a string of emails, text notifications, and two missed calls. There were a few texts from one of her study groups, two from Goro, and a menacing one from her father.

_Come straight home._

Well, that was never a good sign.

Jetlagged, tired, and in need of a shower after a long nonstop flight, she sat across from Kunikazu in his upstairs office. Today's tea was rosehips and hibiscus, but she didn't have the stomach to palate anything.

"We will be moving forward with the original plan for the international expansion of Okumura Foods."

She wrinkled her nose. That didn't sound right. "I thought the board was still in a deadlock?"

"Several executives have agreed that we believe it's time to... dethrone the opposition."

"In what way, buy them out? Didn't our lawyers already say that would be a legal nightmare?"

"Anything we do will be a legal nightmare, so we've decided to pursue a less obvious approach."

Oh.

_No._

"You're not serious."

"Our options are few and far between and the longer we wait, the harder it will be." He folded his hands. "This is for your future as well, Haru."

"I don't see how placing hits on a number of shareholders is the best solution. Especially since you're hiring the man you're planning to run against in December."

"Do you have another idea in mind?"

She leaned back, arms crossed over her chest. "No."

"This is the cost of doing business, sweetheart. Only sharks get ahead."

"Don't you think murder is a bit extreme?"

"Not if it gets the job done. We've talked about this before."

Yeah, before she knew her boyfriend was the hitman who would inevitably finish the job. Before it was clear that the shutdowns were deadly nearly a hundred percent of the time.

"Am I excused to leave?"

"Depends on where you're going."

"My apartment, I have a study group meeting early in the morning near campus."

"Fine, but I want you home this weekend, we have work to do."

"I have a trip planned out of the city—"

"Reschedule. Vacation time is a luxury earned, and you were just gone for twelve days."

Lips drawn in a hard line, she bowed, spiteful. "As you wish."

"And Haru? I am going to expect your _full_ cooperation when it comes to extracting information." He pushed a handwritten list towards her. Names of the proposed hits, from least likely to change their decision to most. "I want you to start as soon as possible."

She felt sick.

Was she also getting soft?

The ride away from the house took too long. She screamed into her pillow at the apartment before angrily running the water for a shower. Her anger continued to boil even after she was clean and dressed in loose loungewear. Dammit. God fucking dammit.

It wasn't until after she was done furiously scrambling eggs that she checked her texts again. Goro had sent another, his name now at the top of her inbox. That calmed her down enough to respond.

GORO♡: Let me know when you land.

GORO♡: How was your flight?

GORO♡: Is everything okay?

HARU: no, and I have to cancel this weekend

HARU: we need to talk

GORO♡: That sounds ominous

HARU: sorry

HARU: it's bad news but not 'I'm mad at you' bad news

GORO♡: Daddy dearest?

HARU: the one and only

GORO♡: Do you want me to call?

HARU: actually, can you come over?

HARU: it's a long story

GORO♡: Tonight?

HARU: if it's not too much trouble

GORO♡: I'm still at the office but I'll head over in a half hour

That would give her enough time to change and try to simmer down. 

Haru was pacing when he arrived, hair partially tied back, cup of tea cooling on the kitchen counter. Her head turned when he closed the door and she made a beeline to him.

"Hey." Her arms were around his neck the second his shoes were off. "I'm still really angry, so I'm sorry if I ramble."

He returned her hug, touch lingering on her waist when she pulled back. "It's fine."

"Do you want tea? I made way too much."

"Yes, please. But first." He pressed his lips to hers. "Welcome home."

He sat on the sofa, small teacup in hand, as she continued to pace. He'd seen her upset, but this was a new beast. She hid a ferocious, vindictive personality behind her cheerful smiles and he was no longer sure he'd seen it in full. This seemed like a tiny tip of an enormous submerged iceberg.

"Father wants to expand overseas, but the board of directors is in a deadlock. Half for, half against. He talked about buying out the shareholders who are backing the directors who want to stay put, but it's a legal mess. We'd have to dump stock in order to have that kind of cash on hand, which would shine a huge spotlight on the company. That, or we could liquidate assets, but he's not keen since the real estate market keeps climbing."

"Does he have a controlling share of Okumura Foods?"

"Yes. Father is the majority shareholder by a hair at fifty-one percent ownership. I have about twenty-four percent."

"Could you sell him your shares?"

She scowled, offended at the thought. "Absolutely not, that's the last scrap of control I have over my life. If he gets a hold of that, I'm done, I have no leverage, no power to do anything without his permission. I'd be married away in a heartbeat"

"It doesn't sound like he's going to accomplish this."

"He is." She stopped frantically prowling around like a wounded tiger and turned to him, eyes hard. "He's going to use Shido's execution service to get what he wants."

Akechi leaned forward, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. "Which means me. You'll prevent a number of deaths if you sell him your shares."

"I'm not doing that."

"These are _lives,_ Haru—"

"Don't get hypocritical on me." Her fists curled. "Don't. We both know you've done worse and you are the last person I want this lecture from. It'll be my life for a gamble. Maybe it makes me a monster, but I'm not ruining my future like that. Am I supposed to value myself less than others? Is my life not worth something?"

"You're not a monster, but this is a treacherous, dangerous path to walk down. I don't want you to become like me." He sighed, not willing to meet her gaze. "It's a tough call, morality-wise, who gets to live and who dies. It shouldn't be up to us to make those decisions."

"But it's okay for my father to make them? For Shido to make them? For us to follow them obediently without question? What gives them that right?"

"Power. Influence. Ego, to some extent."

"And we just bow to them like good little children, so groomed into subservience that we don't think twice about our orders. I'm fucking sick of it." She dropped onto the sofa beside him, anger beginning to wane. "I am sick to death of having to listen to him or risk being sold into marriage as a sex doll. On top of all this—probably the least offensive part—he's not letting me leave this weekend. I'm sorry for getting your hopes up about going to Ogawayama."

"It's not your fault."

"It feels like it is." She undid the tie in her hair. "I'm so stressed out right now."

"Perhaps it would be better to come up with a plan of action in the morning and calm down for now."

"You're probably right." She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. "Can you spend the night?"

"I can if it'll help you feel better, or if you want me to."

"I always want you to. I constantly feel like we don't get enough time together. I'm busy, you're busy—it's like we can't slow down."

"I feel the same." He turned to press his lips to her forehead. "We've grown up too quickly, I think. Too many adult responsibilities, too many complex problems we're expected to fix."

"Sometimes I wish we were just dumb kids. The freedom maturity offers is a double-edged sword, but I wouldn't want to give it up, if it meant we couldn't be together." With a long look, she pulled him into a kiss, holding him steady against her, to her. "I need you tonight. I need to feel like I've got control over something."

"And you want it to be control over _me?"_

"Not over you, over the situation, the night, the—" she waved her free hand, "—bullshit that keeps happening." A kiss to the side of his mouth, barley brushing his lips. "I need you to make me feel okay, if you're ready."

Ready was an abstract concept he wasn't sure he met the criteria for. She was the anchor for his sense of stability, but she was being reckless tonight, her better judgement clouded. He should keep her in check, as she did for him, but he had nowhere near her level of self-control when it came to physical gratification. He was still a slave to oxytocin.

"I'm ready."

She kissed him deeply, hand migrating up his thigh, stroking him slowly through the fabric of his pants. He felt a crackle down his spine when she pulled his shirt untucked, fingers tickling on the taught skin of his stomach.

"Bedroom," she said when his hands inched up her bare thighs.

He let her guide him through the apartment, fingers tangled with hers. Through the door, kisses eager, heated. He backed her against the windows and she stopped, hands on his shoulders.

"Can you turn off the lights?"

It would only take a few seconds.

"Goro."

He turned in time to see her shirt fall to the floor. The bra she wore was black, mesh, barely containing the swell of her breasts. She stood still, determined, skin lit solely by the glowing lights of the city beyond the windows.

She was so…

 _Beautiful_.

His mouth felt dry.

Shaking the stupor, he returned to her quickly, her gaze a magnet pulling him in. She took his wrists in her hands and guided him to the clasp of her bra. Another garment for the pile.

He cupped one breast as he kissed her, teeth and tongue rough, demanding. His other hand lingered down the flat plane of her stomach to the hem of her skirt, touch ghosting under the elastic of her underwear.

Her impatience wasn't subtle. With a huff against his lips, she tugged the rest of the ensemble off, bare before him, eyes dark and filled to the brim with lust.

"On your knees."

He was slow to obey, tongue preoccupied with a puckering nipple. She squirmed, swearing. Her fingers were in a mutinous fight, to push him down or move him to the unattended breast.

The former won.

Leaning back against the window, she threw her right leg over his shoulder, fist twisted in his hair. Running a hand up her inner thigh, he relished her shiver, the goosebumps prickling, tickling up her legs.

"I'm your first time for everything, aren't I?"

He sucked a red spot at the apex of her thigh, hungry for the moan that followed. For the affirmation to feed his addiction, his need to be wanted, craved, _loved._ "Yes."

"Then listen to me and I'll reward you. Don't use your teeth, but your nose is an underrated weapon." She took one of his hands and dragged his fingers up the slick rosey folds to her clit. "Focus here if you want to make me scream."

"Will you be loud?"

"Loud as fuck."

"Won't the neighbors hear?"

"I hope they do. I hope they're _jealous._ I alone get to fuck the handsome, darling detective prince and I hope your fangirls _roll_ with envy."

That was the last encouragement he needed.

He steadied his grip on the thigh over his shoulder and kissed up to the juncture of her hips, tongue soft, cautious. Salty but musky, taste disappearing the longer he continued. Curious fingers soon joined, one against her clit, another inside. Slow, painfully slow according to her squirming.

"I'm not a flower, you don't have to be so gentle."

"What if I want to be?"

"I'm not in the mood to get fucked gent _ly—do that again."_

He obeyed, swirling his tongue around her clit, finger inside her curling forward. Her grip on his hair tightened as she moaned, desperate for purchase.

_"Faster."_

Her cunt soaking with arousal, he slid another digit inside easily and was rewarded by the quivering of her thighs and a chant, a prayer of _don't stop don't stop don't stop, fuck, Goro,_ **_Goro_ ** on a low, breathless moan. He dragged the flat of his tongue up her folds, stopping at the peak to kiss her clit, to lap and suck as she tightened around him. Her breath quickened, swears and gasps punctuating every quick curl of his fingers.

Her body was a symphony and the final note was his name.

Her climax was loud, heady, and needy, nails raking up his back, chest heaving, breathless, sweat beading on pale skin. Demanding, contracting tightly, powerfully, until she collapsed against the window, legs shaky.

She barely seemed conscious. "Are you licking your fingers?"

"Can't let any of you go to waste."

"That's filthy. Come here, I want to taste me on your lips."

She ended up sliding down, muscles weak and balance uncoordinated. Her kiss was gentle only for a moment, deepening when her hands found his erection.

"Your turn. But my legs are jelly. Carry me to bed?"

He complied, using it as an excuse to grab her ass, pleased with the kisses and giggles it earned. He set her down and began to unbutton his shirt.

"I wanted to do that part."

"Too bad, you'll take forever with both this and the belt." Shucking his clothes, he climbed onto the bed and let her push him down against the pillows.

She kissed down his chest, his stomach, his hips, and settled between his legs with a grin. "Anything I should know?"

"Other than it's my first time and please be gentle?"

"Right, sorry. I wanted to go down on you so badly after the gala, but I thought that might be a little too much for you." She licked a slow stripe up his length and he sucked in a breath. "The sounds you make are amazing, by the way. Please exaggerate them for my sake, I need more material to fantasize about when touching myself."

"Are you always this horny?"

"Around you? Duh. Haven't you ever looked in a mirror?"

"Haru, pick dirty or sweet, I can't keep up with both."

She kissed his tip and laughed when he made a strangled, confused sound. "Bet your dick can though."

One hand on his shaft, the other on his thigh, she took him into her mouth, breath hot, inviting. She ran her tongue along the head as she stroked him gently at first, speed increasing to the pace of his gasps and moans. Her free hand moved to his balls, cupping him, fingers gentle but confident.

She made eye contact and released him with a pop, maintaining her gaze as she kissed from tip to base. Keeping one hand on him, she sucked a red spot onto the soft skin of his inner thigh. The marks she left on his body were possessive, a claim she laid with pride. 

"I thought you didn't want gentle?" Was that _his_ voice? His needy, breathless, pathetic voice?

"Not for me, but I can't help myself from wanting to be softer to you. Is it bad?"

No, it was good, but it made his chest ache. Made him want to curl up in her, not come in her. "I need you to be rougher, please."

The magic words sent her back to work, pace fast and hands locked on his hips. The heat of her mouth, her tongue, the speed—he wasn't going to last much longer. He could feel his back arching, lungs raw from the constant draw of breath, from her name mixed with moans coaxed out of his ribs.

"Haru, Haru— _stop."_

She did, quickly. "What's wrong?"

"I'm going to come if you keep going like that."

"That's the point."

"I'd rather come inside you than on you."

"I swallow."

Why did she have to say it like—"You know what I mean."

"Fine. Do you want to be on top this time?"

He did. He pulled her up to the head of the bed, her giggles turning into groans as he sucked a sore spot in the hollow behind her ear, fingers returning to her folds. "You're really wet."

"Hard not to be. I've been thinking about your cock all damn day." She squeezed his ass. "I love this, by the way. It's so hard to resist the urge to grab it constantly."

Good _fuck_. He was definitely blushing, embarrassed but thrilled with the attention. "You act like such a good girl until your clothes come off." He dragged his tip along her entrance, taking too much pleasure in the way she squirmed. He lowered himself to kiss her neck, to bite rose petals into the alabaster skin above her breasts. Ambitious, he tried to mimic her filthy, shameless praise. "Are you always such an eager little slut?" Nope nope nope that felt too weird.

But she liked it. With a laugh, she slid her arms around his neck. "Only for you."

She let out a sigh when he finally thrust inside, buried to the hilt. God, she felt fantastic. "I don't think I can last very long."

"As long as you come loudly, I'm happy."

He was going to lose himself immediately if she kept talking so brazenly about this. 

Her nails clawed up his back, one leg over his hip, smile coy. "How are you feeling?"

"Fucking incredible."

"I know you can get that thick cock of yours in deeper." She bucked her hips, nipped his ear. "I need you to fill me up."

He thrust harder, faster, caging her with his arms. "Put your other leg up."

"Gladly." She let out a low, sordid moan. "I hope you know this is going to be a _way_ more frequent occurrence." Hands in his hair, lips, teeth, tongue on his neck. "Me under you, begging. Or on top of you. Which do you like better?"

"You on top. Better view."

She giggled and it reverberated through his body. "Mine too."

He came suddenly, warning nonexistent, and she quickly pulled him into a breathless kiss, holding him steady as the orgasm rumbled through his body. Mind blank, thoughts vanished, he collapsed beside her. Everything tingled pleasantly.

"Round two after a nap?"

"I don't have that kind of energy." He still couldn't catch his breath. "Are you _ever_ satisfied?"

"I am now. But I need you to get more practice, I find it really hot when you get all cocky about something. The little smirk you do when you've got the upper hand—ugh, it leaves me weak."

"You're going to end up killing me of embarrassment."

Her eyes lit up and he regretted that immediately. "Are you embarrassed about me finding you desirable?"

"No comment."

"That's adorable, Goro." She kissed his cheeks, his nose, forehead. Gently, she pushed him onto his back, fingers entwining his. "I really like you, a lot. I'm glad you're comfortable enough around me to admit to that."

He was glad, too. "Can we go slower next time? Fast is fun but…" Tell her, tell her, _tell her._ "But I need the softness, too, in order to feel closer to you."

"Of course." She kissed him sweetly, drawing lazy shapes on his chest. "I'm going to wash up, I feel all sticky."

He was barely awake when she returned smelling of lilacs and sea salt. Sneaking her way into his arms, she pressed a quick kiss to his chin. "Sorry if I was a little much."

"I didn't expect that from you, if I'm honest." The first time had been so different, so tender. Haru without restraints was the exact opposite—rough, raw, and dominant.

"It's hard for me to control myself around you. But I can if you want me to."

"Only sometimes; I like your wild side. Reminds me of mine."

 _"You_ have a wild streak?"

"Stick around and maybe you'll see it."

"I plan on it." She nestled down, nuzzling into his neck. "I'm sorry about Ogawayama. I promise I'll make it up to you somehow."

"Another weekend. We still have a month left of summer."

"It'll fly by before we know it." She yawned and it made him drowsy. "We can think about it tomorrow."

It was close to four in the morning when he stirred from a dream-filled sleep. That was new; usually he couldn't remember anything, or it was nightmare after nightmare. The images faded away as he stepped into the bathroom, pleasant feelings thick in his chest.

He looked like a wreck in the mirror. Hair sticking up in every direction, sleep in his eyes, a string of rose-red lovebites ringing his neck. These would be a pain in the ass to hide in summer. No more v-necks or undone top buttons for a week at least.

"Admiring my handiwork?" She'd snuck up on him, her arms fast around his waist.

He leaned back into her touch, the sensation of her bare skin against his heady, addictive. "You really went to town."

"Guess I'm a little possessive when it comes to my things."

He felt his stomach flip. _Hers._ "Hiding this one under my ear is going to be a lost cause."

"Good." She kissed the back of his neck. "Send me pictures of it healing, I have a thing for bruises."

"You're a huge pervert, aren't you?"

She laughed and took his hand, leading him back to bed. "What gave you that idea?"

"Just a hunch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akechi: intimacy is special and it makes me feel closer to you  
> Haru: which strapon makes me look cuter?


	6. 'fuckup' is your middle name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be posting regularly this Sunday but might need to skip this coming Thursday - I'll be out of town for a week and have no idea how much time I'll have to write.
> 
> I think the next chapter is the midway point - at least it will be unless I get carried away at the end.

Late morning sunlight streamed in far too early, waking her from a long, restless night. Unsurprisingly, Goro was already up, scrolling through his phone with a frown. She yawned and nestled closer to his neck, hoping to feign sleep. Jetlag had never been kind to her.

"I saw that sideways glance."

"Five more minutes."

"You said that two hours ago."

"Good morning to you too, Sir Grumpy. Anything interesting on the news?"

"Other than the Phantom Thieves and my face? No."

"You should have done modeling with that ego."

"My crippling self-hatred would have ruined my career before it started." He chuckled at his own joke. "On a more positive note, I think I have an idea how the Thieves are operating."

"Care to share?"

"They're using the Metaverse in a similar way, but what they're doing isn't deadly—that part I'm not clear on. The only guidance I have is from what Shido will let me see of Isshiki Wakaba's notes, and I suspect they have more information than I do."

"Do you think they have copies of her research?"

"No." She could feel the muscles in his arm tense under her wandering fingers. "With the amount of trouble Shido went through to get it, I don't think he'd let copies exist."

What happened with Wakaba wasn't a good topic for him. "Is it possible someone else is doing their own research?"

"Possible, not sure how probable, even less sure how they would be in contact with the Thieves. With my current knowledge I'm inclined to believe they're a group of kids—first target was a gym teacher at your school preying on girls, second was a master artisan exploiting young students."

"Kids handing an adult's bullshit back to them, sounds right up your alley."

"Are you suggesting I have common interests with them?" He scowled. "They're taking away the free will of their targets, which is deplorable. Who are they to change someone's heart against their wishes?"

"If I could change my father's heart so he'd go back to being the kind man I knew in my childhood, I would. Without a second thought."

"You'd be forcibly making a choice for him without his input."

"So it'd better to watch him ruin other people's lives even if I could stop it?"

He sighed and she felt his grip on her waist tighten. "This is going to be a point of conflict and I don't want it to be a wedge between us."

"Then let's drop it; we don't need to agree on everything." He was too important to her now to lose over something stupid.

"All right."

"That out of the way, we have more important things to think about like what, if anything, we can do about Father's extermination plan."

"My orders came in this morning." He passed her his phone. The code was vague for anyone not close to the situation but too obvious for her. It was a different list than the one she'd been given the night before—these were the shareholders.

"Father wants to wait until I extract information from the directors." She handed the phone back. "That's why your instructions are to prepare, not execute."

"Extract information how?"

"Seduce them, if I had to take a guess. Though these are men who know my true colors, it seems odd to me they wouldn't realize they're being manipulated."

"Do you see another way around?" His face was calm, but his tone betrayed an undercurrent of icy fury. 

"I think I might be able to weasel info out of a handful of them by talking. Hard to say no to big eyes and a pretty pout." Disgruntled, she nudged him to sit up and settled in his lap, head back on his chest. "But that doesn't solve the issue of Father's whole 'some of you may die but that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make' plan. We're still at square one."

"Have you ever been unsuccessful?"

"A few times. In the end it changed nothing, only caused minor delays. If I can't do what he's asking, I fully expect you'll get orders to start picking them off. Maybe I can stall for time, or try to encourage them to change their positions."

"You don't sound optimistic."

"Because I'm not. I don't think that's going to work. In all likelihood we'll both have to do what we're told, I'll feel disgusted with myself, and you'll have fresh blood on your hands." She looked up at him. "Maybe it's time we try going for the roots instead of the branches."

"Absolutely not. I'm not letting you get involved with Shido."

"But—"

"End of discussion." His eyes were narrowed, anger no longer a subtle suggestion. "Don't ask again."

She turned her gaze to the windows. "This whole not being able to help sucks."

"The election is in five months, it won't last longer than that."

"Am I supposed to sit here and be patient while you're off turning into a monster? Should I twiddle my thumbs and pretend nothing's wrong?"

He sighed and wrapped his arms around her waist. "If anything were to happen to you I'm not sure how I'd react, and that scares me."

"What's the worst case scenario?"

"Realistically? Extremely destructive meltdown. I'm sure you've realized by now that my stability is a tightrope walking act and some days I am dangerously close to losing my balance."

"You're a lot more stable than when we met."

There was a long pause before he spoke, voice low. "I am?"

"Haven't you noticed?"

"No."

"You're open with me about how you're feeling, you're more willing to listen to me when I offer advice, you made a friend—not huge steps, but it's progress." She turned around and pressed a kiss to his jawline. "You're smiling, Goro."

"I've been doing that more as of late." He gave kisses freely, but she loved the ones pressed into her hair most, his breath lingering on her scalp, shivers dancing down her back. "I'm definitely getting soft."

"I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing. Happiness looks good on you." She giggled at his embarrassment. "The blush is cute, too."

"All right, get off, we're done with the pillow talk."

"Where are you going?"

"To shower, like a productive human."

"Can I join?"

"No!"

He slammed the door, red as a poppy, while she howled with laughter.

  
  


The planning room for Shido's conspiratorial party always reminded him of a mission control center. Only, instead of a spacecraft launch on the six-panel display, it was the Medjed plot blowing to smithereens before it hit the stratosphere. Two screens broadcast different news stations in real-time, one had that god-awful Phan-site forum section and the popularity poll, two more displayed public opinions on political candidates, and the last showed his ratings, which were bombing. Fast.

At least this royal fuckup hadn't been his brainchild.

"Any other brilliant ideas from the peanut gallery?" Shido was at the back of the room, watching from the doorway. Pissed.

Akechi shot his hand up, not turning from the screens.

"My office, now. The rest of you better have started damage control ten minutes ago."

Shutting the door behind them, Akechi opted to stay standing, arms folded over his chest.

"Whatever you have better be worthwhile."

"It is. They run a popularity poll for targets on their website. It's a new feature and isn't coded by a genius. Should be easy enough to manipulate the vote count towards someone it would be beneficial for us to knock off. Once they've taken the bait, we swing it to make it look like they've been the ones behind the shutdowns."

"It would have to be a high-profile target." He didn't like the look in Shido's eyes. "Okumura has been a thorn in my side as of late, especially with all the increased snooping around. His funding, while substantial, is a loss we can live with."

"I'm not executing that hit," he said before he could stop the thought from voicing itself.

"Are you threatening to disobey me?"

_ Fuck. _ "I can't get involved due to my familiarity with the daughter. She's sharper than a switchblade and I have no doubt she'd connect it back to us since she knows we're the group Okumura is using to clean up the mess." 

"How does she know?"

"She's the feral tiger her father siccs on misbehaving investors, of course she knows who he's hiring to do the dirty work she can't finish." When Shido's expression remained hostile, he relented an inch. "I can either keep her attention turned elsewhere, or I can do the shutdown and risk her discovering who ordered the hit."

"What's the worst she could do if she found out? It's not common for women to stay rational with their emotions."

"She's vicious and worth billions. Kill her father and she inherits tens of billions. I can think of more than a handful of ways for her to extract revenge."

"You're uncharacteristically apprehensive."

"I have intimate knowledge of her thought patterns; I am realistically cautious."

Shido let an uncomfortable silence grow before speaking. "I'll allow it if you have another idea for how we could carry this out without your direct involvement."

"Aconitine, the toxic substance in wolfsbane. Sodium-channel agonist, kills at as low as point-oh-three milligrams per kilogram of body weight. It will cause life-threatening arrhythmia at a high enough dose."

"Possibility of showing on a tox screen?"

"Difficult to identify without liquid-chroma mass spec. Even then you need a good eye and a reason to look for it." He cocked his head. "But that's why you pay the medical examiners to look the other way."

Shido's laugh and grin to follow made him feel lighter and chilled his blood. "On your way to becoming an uncatchable killer?"

He was that already, thanks to the monster behind the desk. "I have more than a fleeting interest in toxicology, that's all."

"Where can it be procured?"

"I can have you a list of trusted suppliers in the morning."

"I want them before eight or we'll go the regular route. Get to it."

Great. Great! Fucking great! Stellar job Akechi! Really phenomenal work, plotting to kill your girlfriend's last living parent!

He seriously contemplated throwing himself onto the tracks at both of his transfers.

On the floor of his tiny apartment, wishing for the earth to swallow him whole, he rationalized not telling her until he had a solution. She was dealing with enough by herself and this would be an added anxiety she had no control over. There had to be some way around this, around Shido. Sure, aconitine poisoning was treatable, but it needed to be administered quickly. He'd have to be on the scene—and become suspect number one if Okumura lived.

He needed a place with white noise to think, where the buzz of his thoughts couldn't engulf the silence. The online chatter was crucifying him for taking a stance against the Phantom Thieves, which was going to make finding a quiet place difficult.

AKECHI: Where was that cafe you liked? The one with the curry

NIIJIMA: Yongen-Jaya.

NIIJIMA: Though it's late; unsure if they'll be open now.

AKECHI: Not a problem, I'd like to check it out tomorrow anyway

NIIJIMA: I'll send you the address.

Perfect.

It was nondescript, wedged into an alley near a bar and across from a bath house. The neighborhood itself was low-key and sleepy, a nice change of pace from Shibuya's constant motion. The cafe was dead for a weekday morning, booths empty and no one at the bar. His eyes adjusted to the darker interior to see—

"Yo, Akechi!" Ren was behind the counter, carafe in hand. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

Of course it would be the same place his friend-rival-thing worked. Of. Course. Nothing was a coincidence in this damn town. "One of the prosecutors I work with, Niijima Sae, recommended this place. She said the coffee is outstanding."

The older man next to Ren bristled with the name drop. "I've already told you people to get lost—"

"I'm not here for work." He gave an apologetic smile. "I'm merely looking for a good cup of coffee. Besides which, I'm not assigned to that case and it's not my business."

He continued to glare.

"It's fine. We're friends; I trust him."

"I don't. Keep an eye on him."

"Roger, boss." He tapped the bar. "Take a seat. I'd show you a menu but we really do only serve coffee and curry. Today's brews are on the board."

"Surprise me, I'll trust your judgement."

"That is never a good option," said Ren's boss from down the bar.

"You have so little faith in me, Sojiro."

"I have the appropriate amount after that experiment you did in my kitchen last week."

Ren leaned in and whispered. "We poured curry into the coffee on a dare. This is apparently a grave sin in the Church of Leblanc."

"How was it?"

"Terrible, but Ryuji's face made it totally worth it—I think I've got a picture somewhere."

Sojiro cleared his throat. "You sound excited about something I distinctly remember threatening to kick you out over."

"It _ was _ funny. You laughed at the aftermath too."

"Kick you out?"

"I'm from the suburbs, but am staying above the store at the moment. Did we not go over my sob story?" He set a cup in front of Akechi and fetched a kettle. "You have to lean in again."

He did.

Ren dropped his voice to a barely audible decibel. "I stopped a woman from being assaulted and the pain in the ass who did it got me arrested—apparently he's some big political guy with a lot of sway. My folks sent me out here for a year to lay low since my school didn't take it well."

"That's screwed up."

"I know, right? The system's so broken, we might as well throw the whole thing out and order a new one." And yet, he was grinning ear to ear. "It's been fine so far. Made new friends, did some cool stuff, got a cat."

"You didn't get me, I found you!"

Did that cat

Just

Fucking

Talk

"Oh, he shouldn't be down here." Ren made a beeline around the counter, scooped up the protesting animal, and zoomed up the stairs.

His brisk departure left Akechi alone with the boss, who disappeared into the kitchen, and a very small teenage girl who suddenly popped into existence behind the bar. She looked downright terrified. He wasn't on the Isshiki Wakaba case with Sae, but he'd been told enough in passing to recognize the daughter.

A wave of nausea crawled slowly through his system. The recalled smell of fear-drenched sweat cut through the coffee and his limbs grew heavy. An unpleasant memory of being drugged into a stupor rode up his throat, salivary glands prickling as his stomach churned—

"You must be Futaba. I'm sorry about what happened to your mother."

She remained a statue and he averted his gaze, looking for the meaning of life in a coffee cup.

"My mom also committed suicide when I was young. I was a burden, a bastard child, and one day she couldn't take it anymore."  _ But you killed Wakaba. You can't empathize. You did it, it was your fault, your fault— _ "I was discarded, unwanted by family. I understand what you went through."

Ren's footsteps on the stairs startled them both. "Jeez, I leave for five minutes and you two get depressed. No frowns in the coffee shop, house rules."

"Sorry."

"I'm going upstairs."

Ren waited for her to vanish to the attic before speaking. "When did your mom pass?"

"Almost twelve years ago now. I was six at the time." 

"Just your mom?"

He nodded. "My father walked out when she got pregnant. No aunts or uncles either. I ended up in foster care for years."

"Damn, I can't imagine how hard that was. I don't know what I'd do without my folks."

"Didn't your parents ship you down here?"

"Yeah, but not because they wanted to. My mom is a researcher at a university and my dad's a dentist with his own practice; they weren't in a position to move. There wasn't a school in an hour radius that wanted a delinquent, so my dad called up Sojiro to see if he'd take me in for a year—they were buddies back in college."

"That's quite a support network, I'm a little jealous." He was a lot jealous.

Ren shrugged and poured himself a cup of coffee. "I got lucky. Personally I'm more impressed with you. No guidance and yet here you are: famous detective living independently at eighteen, a fan base, this one's a guess but colleges are probably emailing you to apply even before entrance exams, and a girlfriend you can't shut up about. I think you're doing well for yourself."

Expressing gratitude had never been a strong suit. He lowered his gaze back to the cup between his hands. It was still morning and this day was already extremely emotionally exhausting. "Thank you."

"Come by more often, I'm usually down here after seven most nights."

Akechi left a little after noon. 

Sojiro stopped wiping down the counter as soon as the door closed. "That kid has a lot of baggage."

"I think he needs a therapist. How much did you pay attention to?"

"Enough. Once you get to be my age you've heard the beginning so many times it's not hard to see where the story's going."

Speaking of bad beginnings. "I'm going to go check on Futaba."

"Don't dawdle too long, we might have a lunch rush."

Yeah, right. He took the stairs two at a time, finding the suspect under the covers of his bed, her video game muffled by the comforter. Morgana was curled up at the foot, one blue eye snapping open at the intrusion.

Ren sat next to the lump. "You all right?"

"I have hit my limit on stranger interactions today."

"That's fine, I've got Sojiro covered."

She pulled the sheets down just enough to see. "He gives me the weirdest vibes."

"I've been saying that for weeks," Morgana complained. "Scruffy over here won't listen to me."

"I agreed with you, remember? He seems off to me too, like he's hiding something dark under that fake smile."

"It's fake?"

"It's totally fake," Ren and Morgana said in unison.

"His eyes were deceptive then; he looked hurt."

"I don't think he's lying about the shitty childhood, just the Mister Perfect act."

"We should still keep an eye on him, which is why you're pretending to be his friend, right?"

"I'm not pretending." Ren folded his arms. "I genuinely like the guy. Sure, I think he's being a little sketchy, but I don't mind spending time with him. God knows he needs a friend after that trauma dump conversation."

Morgana stretched and moved up to the pillows. "You need to stop taking in every sad looking stray that gives you puppy eyes." 

"What can I say? I have a weakness for misfits."

It took a week for Akechi to return, showing up an hour and a half before closing. He had a leather bag in addition to his briefcase and he looked dead in the eyes.

Tan suit, blue checkered shirt, navy tie, hair up. The jacket came off the second he sat down.

"Business professional today?"

"Take my advice, don't pick a profession that requires you to endure meeting after meeting with pigheaded idiots nearly every single day." He leaned heavily on the counter. "Especially in the summer, there's nothing fun about wearing a suit on the subway."

"I'll have to take your word for it."

He rolled up his sleeves, the face of a beautiful older watch catching the lights from above the bar. "Do, better to not learn from experience. Whatever you're pouring tonight will be fine."

"Curry too?"

"No, thank you. Hunger keeps me focused."

He pulled out two notebooks and began to write in the smaller of the pair. Ren couldn't read his handwriting at all. It was both messy and neat, all the kanji cramped together like cars stuck in a gridlock. Tiny too, it was a miracle none of it smudged.

A half hour into this strange ritual, another customer entered the cafe. Akechi looked to the newcomer, made eye contact, and returned to his work. Graceful as a doe, the patron pulled out a stool two seats to his left. 

"Evening," she said with a soft smile. "Are you serving the Mocha Matari today?"

"I don't have any brewed at the moment, but I can whip you up a cup if you don't mind the wait."

"If it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all," he said as he reached for the ground beans from the morning. "So, how long have you two been dating?"

The girl whipped to Akechi, her gaze murderous. Akechi, in turn, threw daggers at Ren.

"He gushes about you a lot so I've been expecting you to show up."

She wasn't done stabbing him with her eyes. "You  _ gush _ about me?"

"How would you describe your conversations about  _ me _ in your group chat? I have a few choice words picked out, but I'd  _ love _ to know what you think."

"That's different."

"How?  _ How _ is that different?"

"Girls, girls, you're both pretty." This was fucking phenomenal entertainment, he should do this more often. "Calm down, we're all friends here. It's just the three of us in the shop. I'm Ren, which you may or may not have known. I don't know your name; to his credit, he's never let that slip."

"Haru." She took the offered coffee. "How'd you figure it out?"

Well for starters he knew what she looked like, but admitting that might actually get Akechi killed. "Small glance, taking a seat that's close but not too close, wandering eyes."

"All of that could have been an indicator I was a low-key fangirl."

"It could have, but we're in a very dead cafe in a not-so-glamorous part of Tokyo. If you were that much of a stalker, you wouldn't have come inside."

"Vying for my job, Ren?"

"Hell no, I don't want to wear a suit in this weather." He looked between them quickly. "We're still technically open for another hour, but I'm going to lock up to prevent any intrusions. Don't tell Sojiro."

Tension easing, Haru moved to sit beside Akechi. "Your penmanship is pathetic, Goro."

"Can you read any of it?"

"No."

"Good, because that's the point. Don't you have work to do?"

She rolled her eyes and pulled a tablet and a notepad out of her purse.

They both worked in busy silence, an occasional muttered question breaking the monotony of pens scratching on paper and curry heating on the stove. Guests preoccupied, he checked his phone for the latest in the group chat.

TENTACLES: you guys are gonna be gone for sooooo loooooong

TENTACLES: inari you'd better bring back something cool

INARI: Why is that  _ my _ job?

TENTACLES: you're mr A E S T H E T I C so you're the default souvenir-getter

TENTACLES: duh

IRON FIST: We'll only be gone a week, it'll be over before you know it

IRON FIST: Ren please change our names back

SPEEDWAGON: no.

PUSSY GALORE: at least yours isn't ridiculous, makoto

SPEEDWAGON: excuse u ann goldfinger is a  _ classic _

PUSSY GALORE: a classic  _ what?  _ porno? bc this sounds like it's from a porno

DREAD PIRATE ROBERTS: hey uhhhh how much is everyone packing?

"Something interesting you're giggling about over there?"

"Shenanigans. More coffee?"

"I shouldn't, I need to sleep tonight." Haru yawned. "I got sucked into some Hawaii trip for school and I don't handle jetlag well."

"No shit, my class is going there too."

"I believe you both go to the same school. I will take more, thank you, I have a lot of work to get done tonight."

"You're going to keep me up all night if you drink another cup."

"Hardly, you could sleep through an earthquake."

"You two bicker like an old married couple."

Ren beamed internally as Akechi choked on his coffee.

"He's got a point."

"Both of you can fuck right off."

  
  


"I completely forgot you were going to Hawaii in two days."

"It's just a week, you'll barely notice I'm gone." Haru turned on the bedroom light and meandered to her closet in search of pajamas. "Do you want to stay here while I'm away?"

"Here as in your apartment?"

"Do you see another 'here'? Yes, the apartment. Your place is so tiny you can't properly pace around and scowl."

"I don't do that."

"You're currently doing that."

"It wouldn't be weird?"

"Goro, sweetheart, half your suits live in my closet. I even sectioned out an area for your growing wardrobe."

"You did not _ — _ oh. There's more than I was expecting."

She reached a hand out, pulling him into a kiss. "Stay here so I can come home to you."

"And then promptly pass out for fourteen hours?"

Haru mimed pulling out her hair. "Akechi Goro, take the damn offer and sleep in the middle of the queen bed for once and not on a futon that takes up two-thirds of your little apartment."

"This is a sacrifice I'll make for the greater good."

"Are you purposefully riling me up?"

"You're cute when you're angry, sue me."

"Is that one of the reasons you brag about me to your friend?"

"One of many."

"What's the biggest one?"

"The way you look at me."

She threw his sleep pants at his face. "Bullshit."

"I'm serious. Don't—if you throw that shirt at me I will lock you in that closet." In an act of malicious compliance, it was tossed lightly towards his open hands. "Thank you. What I was saying was, the way you look at me is affirmation that this isn't all in my head. And I need that, it helps me be more hopeful for the future." He laughed drily. "This is the first year I've thought about my future after I turn eighteen. I didn't think I'd have a reason to stick around after executing my plan."

Haru's expression was pained as she pushed him backwards to sit on the bed and forced herself onto his lap, head on his thighs. "Why do you always have to say the most depressing things when we're getting ready to sleep?"

"The nighttime feels less vulnerable than the day. I'm more comfortable admitting this sort of thing to you in the dark."

"The lights are on."

"But the sun isn't up."

Haru sighed and sat up, kissing him down into the sheets, cradling him. Her hands always found his, curling her fingers around his. She was too good for him, too good, he didn't—

"We're partners in this," she mumbled into the hollow of his neck. "Sometimes I get the feeling that you drop these things on me to push me away. That if you scare me enough I'll leave. But I'm not going anywhere, so give me your worst." Sitting up enough to see his face, she brushed hair from his eyes. "I never…I didn't think this is where our original deal would lead. I figured we'd stay at arm's length, instead you're buried deep between my ribs. Last month you said you'd have a meltdown if you lost me and I've been thinking about it a lot, if our roles were reversed. I'm afraid of what I'd do if you were taken from me, or hurt. Scorched earth has always been a policy of mine."

"I don't deserve—"

"I don't  _ care _ about what you think you deserve." Her eyes hardened, angry. "You suckered me with a cute smile and sad eyes; you're stuck with me."

"Why are you so unwilling to admit that I'm a monster not worth saving?"

"It would mean I'm also a monster and I don't think that's true. We're not bad kids; we've been doing bad things because the parent we wanted affection from said they'd love us if we did. Which has been a lie from the start."

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're too good to me."

"Sometimes I feel like I'm not good  _ enough." _ She moved to lie beside him, head over his heartbeat. "You've had to endure all this shit and I feel compelled to make up for it, as if somehow I can undo all the pain you carry. And before you lecture, I know, it's not my job and it's too much for me to do alone. It's a subconscious effort and I can't stop myself."

He appreciated that she tried anyway. That she kept fighting him back up the ledge whenever he got too low. Her grip on him had become more protective, especially in public, a guardian of his fragile emotional state. Wasn't is usually the other way around, the large protecting the small? He might be taller, stronger physically, but she was the Colossus of Rhodes, standing high over the harbor.

The ghosting of a small sentence rolled across his tongue, words lost like treetops in the dense fog.

Afraid of how his voice would sound now—if it would crack, break, betray the false calm on his face—he opted to kiss her, softly, slowly. She could read him now, right? Knew better than he what all the gentle touches meant.

"Go change," she said when they broke apart. "We should sleep."

He refused to look at his reflection, knowing his eyes would be red, irritated by his own growing heart. What a painful, inconvenient thing to own. Some days he wished he'd let it stay necrotic and cold, too numb to feel. Though emotions could be…nice, sometimes. He sighed and looked up at the mirror.

The boy before him was exhausted, dark circles threatening to bruise under his eyes. Broad shoulders out of place under a youthful face, the suggestive swell of pectorals still subtle under a loose t-shirt. Yellowing lovebite peeking from under the neckline. A mess in sheep's clothing.

"I want you to give me another one of these before you leave," he said when he returned to her, fingers tracing the hickey on his neck.

"Odd request. Why?"

"I'm reminded of you when I see them." Sometimes his heartbeat skipped, too. "It'll last a few days if you're rough."

"You know you could just keep a picture of me on your phone instead, serves the same purpose."

"I have several; it's not quite the same. Wait, do you do that?"

"Pass me my phone."

He did so, weaseling himself into her arms when she sat up. 

"How I got this picture has a weird backstory so don't ask, but it's a favorite of mine." It was from their cafe date in early May, lighting low but warm. He was smiling into her kiss, leaning across the bench. He was the subject of this photo, her face nearly hidden from the angle. "I've always thought you look kind of drunk on happiness in it."

He did. He looked disgustingly happy, cheeks tinged pink, body relaxed. "Can you send it to me?"

"Of course."

"I still want the hickey."

The morning she left, dawn barely cracking across the sky, she woke him a fevered kiss, hand trailing down his stomach to the thick waistband of his underwear. Her touch was restrained, never dipping under the elastic. Large red marks fresh on the skin around his collar bone, she cupped his cheeks, kissed him hard, and stood.

"I'll see you in a week."

It took a few seconds for his brain to restart.

"You're such a fucking  _ tease!" _ he yelled from the threshold. Her laughter echoed down the hall, disappearing as the front door clicked shut.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he has lil flamingos on his socks
> 
> Haru's dad Lord Farquaad confirmed


	7. you're such a goddamn drama queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a day late and I am soooo sorry!!! To make up for it, have an extra 1k. Next chapter will be Sunday!
> 
> Edit 8/3: sorry everyone, family and work stuff has gotten in the way over the weekend and Monday. Next chapter will be out as soon as it's done!

The headache started when he woke up. A pillow was tucked into his arms and he found himself lying diagonally across the mattress. Body sore, joints achy, he rose slowly, dragging the duvet with him into the kitchen. Leave it to Haru to keep her apartment arctic level freezing in the summer. _I like living in fluff,_ she'd said once in explanation. No wonder he was coming down with something.

AKECHI: Just a warning, but I'm under the weather

She'd see it when she landed, which would be in…three hours? Had he really slept in until noon? It was a nineteen-hour time difference, so that would make it still evening when she arrived, but also yesterday?

This hurt too much to think about.

He made tea (worse than Haru, but acceptable) and nibbled around a piece of toast, appetite non-existent. Sleeping for eternity sounded like a swell idea, so he gave that a shot, only to be woken up by his work phone an hour into a restless nap.

"What."

"Already taking an attitude and I haven't even told you what I called for."

Fuck, Shido. He sat up—nope, head throbbed worse, lying back down. "I apologize, I'm just waking up."

"It's past one in the afternoon, how lazy are you?"

"I'm sick."

"That's too bad, I have an errand for you."

Just one today, please just one, he didn't have the drive or energy to leave the apartment for too long. "And it is?"

"I need you to clean up Kobayakawa. He's delivered failure after failure and is becoming something of a liability."

"That's the Shujin principal, correct? When do you need it done by?"

"Today, ideally. The sooner the better; the SIU director thinks he's a flight risk."

"I can do it later in the evening, but that will have to be the only Metaverse trip I make until I'm recovered."

"You don't call the shots."

"You'll be out of an executioner if I end up comatose from overexertion." When did he get so bold? He needed to stop talking back.

"Fine." Shido sounded pissed, but relented. "You're on desk work for the rest of the week."

_Click._

"A goodbye would be appreciated," he grumbled as he disappeared back into the cocoon.

Haru texted an hour and a half later and at least this was a welcome interruption.

HARU: hey! made it safe!

HARU: oh nooo 

HARU: how are you feeling??

AKECHI: Like shit

AKECHI: I just hope I didn't give it to you

HARU: I think I'm okay, no sniffles here

HARU: I'm sorry I'm not there/can't do anything to help (｡•́︿•̀｡)

AKECHI: It's fine, I'm going to try to sleep it off

HARU: I hope you feel better soon ♡♡♡

HARU: I need to go do important chaperone things, I'll check back in later

HARU: sweet dreams, sunshine

Bubbly feeling in his chest, he knocked out quickly into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The sun was beginning to set when he was finally able to drag himself out the door. Luckily this nonsense illness hadn't thrown a fever into the mix, but the outside temperature still made his skin prickle, body stressed. The quicker he got this over with, the better.

Entering the Metaverse felt like the acceleration before the drop on a roller coaster, gravity pushing heavily down on every square inch of his skeleton. Lasting only a few seconds, it left him woozy and lightheaded, minor disorientation dissipating as he shook out his limbs.

There was a lingering darkness under the streets, something he could sense but not see. Years ago he'd suspected shadows disappeared into this underground, as targets would occasionally vanish from the Metanav, reappearing at random. Finding this otherworldly hell had never been high on his priority list. Better to give Shido the impression that his tasks took longer than they did or get piled up with more work.

He'd managed to track Kobayakawa's movements to the school, though Shido had been right—the inner turmoil he could read through the nav suggested he was on his way to spill everything about the conspiracy (which admittedly wasn't much) to the police. That would be a stupid move, considering how much of th force had been bought out.

_Are you going to be quick and painless, or do you want to use your claws?_

His strength felt full, strangely, but a frenzy wasn't a good idea. "I plan on using the pistol."

_What a pity, it's been so long since we've drawn blood._

"Maybe that's a good thing."

Loki laughed. _You're changing, baby boy. Are you losing your edge?_

**We're honing it. Blind rage is careless, not cunning.**

_Going soft on me too, Robbie? How annoying._

"Can you both shut the fuck up?" He needed to concentrate and his arguing inner demons were of no help as usual.

**_We heard that._ **

Good. Maybe they'd actually listen for once.

Settling onto the rooftop, he checked the sights on his pistol and set up to wait. Malaise suspiciously gone, there wasn't much reason to rush. He really hated doing this, the senseless killing, but it was just a few months more. Hopefully Shido wouldn't get too vindictive in the meanwhile. Stay steady, exhale.

He missed.

He fucking missed.

Kobayakawa's shadow shifted from human shape to monstrous at the sound of the bullet ricocheting uselessly against the pavement.

_Ready to tango, hotshot?_

Flicking his wrist summoned a vibrant serrated sword, blade humming. He lept, landing easily thanks to the cognitive physics of this realm. The creature before him was still large and lumbering like its human counterpart, slow to strike. He dodged a heavy arm with ease. His slashing counter did minimal damage, thick leathery skin too tough to tear.

Fuck.

His mask cracked apart as he let out a bloodcurdling roar. Loki touched down, fiery hoofprints left in his destructive wake. He held his sword parallel to Akechi and mirrored his stance, grin wide on an eyeless face. Energy surged through his veins, fast, like a tidal wave ravaging the coast.

It was easy to forget, sometimes, that he was playing with lives.

Channeling the unchecked power of his Persona into the blade, he charged, head already swimming in a berserk rage. This would be quick but painful. A punishment for making him unsheath his arms. Every slash was doubled by his demonic guardian, enormous claymore sinking easily into elephantine flesh.

The headrush only started to fade when he was wiping blood from his visor. That had been too effortless; he didn't even get a scratch.

That...wasn't a good revelation.

_You've always loved the carnage. Are you starting to regret it?_

"No."

_Good, because you've got a lot of bloodlust, kid, and it's not going anywhere._

The real world hit him like a sack of bricks.

Sickness creeping back in, he could now add sore muscles onto the pile of shitty body aches plaguing his existence. At least he'd entered the Metaverse near the apartment and it was a slow, short crawl back to the building.

Energy drained, a shower was out of the question. Instead he stripped down and returned to the mountain of fluff that made up Haru's bed. This was truly the pinnacle of human achievement, the feeling of living inside a cloud.

Alone in the dark, his sins rushed in. Usually they were ignorable, pushed to the way back if his conscious mind to be dealt with in full at a later time. But being in her bed exacerbated feelings of uncertainty, remorse. Guilt.

Crippling, insidious guilt. And the two people he spoke to regularly were both nineteen hours behind in the early hours before dawn. When had he started to crave comfort from others? This was so unwanted, so useless. Neediness on top of illness, what a terrible combination. He'd been on his own for so many years, what changed? He shut down the line of thought and drowned himself in the duvet, sleep eventually coming to a quiet, distraught mind.

He did not feel better in the morning.

There were a few messages from Haru asking how he was feeling. She sent pictures of the beach and a brilliant sunset, a group shot of her and a few other third-years with smoothies in coconut shells, tide pools, sea birds—typical vacation shots. Ren sent one of his stupid blond friend getting his head stuck in a tiki mask—fine, that was funny, he chuckled.

And there was one from Shido. A response to him confirming the job was finished. _Good work._

The praise burbled in his chest less than usual, last night's turbulent emotions dulling the sparks of receiving attention. His mouth tasted metallic. A shower was in order.

Clean, dry, and back in loungewear, he settled in to work, tea cooling steadily on the nightstand to his right, her side of the bed. Sae had emailed an update on the Phantom Thieves case, along with a news article about Kobayakawa's death—she believed they were related and he knew better than to correct her. He'd answer that when his stomach stopped churning, nausea thick and persistent. There were a few emails to the SIU team group inbox, another few from one of Shido's underlings. He was technically in charge of them, but getting career-driven adults to listen to a kid was a lost cause. He might be the brains behind the operation, but trust had to be won.

"Hey, you've been quiet recently. Something wrong?"

Sae. Why couldn't she text like a normal twenty-something? "I've been sick since Friday, so I've been trying to sleep it off."

"For some reason I didn't think you could get sick. Maybe those all-nighters have been catching up to you."

"Likely. I just hope it clears before my term starts, I'd hate to miss the first day back."

"Let's hope. Do you need anything in the meanwhile?"

"Need anything?"

"Food, or medicine." She laughed. "I feel a bit like I'm responsible for you."

"I appreciate it, but I should be fine." Haru had thrust a card at him before leaving and gave an angry lecture about his instant ramen habit. She had noticed the two and a half kilos he lost last time she left. "I should be back to normal in a few days."

"Don't hesitate to reach out if anything changes."

"Thank you."

He closed his laptop when the call ended, holding his head in his hands. Genuine care for his well-being was an overwhelming experience. His emotions would need to be shut off if he were going to get anything done today.

Sunday was uneventful. So was Monday. Still sick, his appetite was dead on arrival. He'd definitely lost weight again, four days of barely eating already evident. The usual smooth line of his hips had gotten jagged, iliac crests jutting slightly. Hopefully this was all fluid loss.

Wanting to curb her wrath (and prove he was trying to eat even though food felt like sludge in his stomach and the queasiness wouldn't dissipate no matter what he did), he ordered takeout from a dumpling shop that evening. Worse came to worst he could just shove it in the fridge and pretend he'd eat it tomorrow.

This was such an annoying illness. And odd. No respiratory symptoms, no fever, but myalgia, chills, headache, and anorexia. Not a cold, not a flu, and Haru didn't catch—

Oh.

_Oh._

He sat down heavily, food abandoned in the kitchen. Headache still pounding, it was hard to discern if this ridiculous thought was correct, but his mind was screaming it all the way down to his bones.

He missed her, terribly.

And he loved her, _terribly_.

It was difficult to breathe, the air in the apartment too stuffy suddenly, too thick.

Pieces of an intricate puzzle began to fall into place as he held his head in his hands, gaze unfocused, locked at a spiral in the wood grain of the floor. The illness had started the day she left for the trip, and he surmised it wouldn't dissipate until she came back.

Lovesick.

He was physically lovesick and he wanted to die. To fade right down into the duvet and cease to exist. How fucking embarrassing. How ridiculous. How _soft._

She wouldn't miss a bottle of wine. He didn't think he could continue to process this without going nuts.

Halfway through a dry red, he made the stupid decision to tell her. There was no way in any fucking hell he'd be able to say those words out loud, or sober, but he wanted her to know. She _deserved_ to know. She'd been waiting patiently, supportively, for ages while he tried to put himself together. This was the least he could do.

He sent a very brief, succinct text of _I think I love you_ and promptly lobbed his phone onto the couch, vowing not to look at it until morning.

Rest of the bottle poured in a huge mug, his phone went off.

Fuck. Fuck _fuck fuck fuck—_

Whelp, bottoms up. For courage.

He deliberated looking at it for five, seven, ten minutes.

It was an email from work.

Nerves shot, anxiety high, he turned his phone on silent and retreated to her bed—their bed? He didn't feel like a guest anymore. He slept beside her most nights, kept a fair amount of his clothing in her closet, a toothbrush in the bathroom, his coffee in the kitchen.

This was cohabitation. This was _domestic._

He'd been screwed from the start, doomed to love the first person to show him a sliver of genuine care. And he couldn't have picked better if he tried, the quick-witted heiress with the driest sense of humor and the biggest heart underneath all her teeth.

God did he fucking miss her.

Work wasn't happening tonight. He'd eat enough to not puke from the alcohol but nothing more. Everything in the room reminded him of her, from the floral smell of the sheets to her streaming queue of gorey low-budget horror films and the occasional k-drama. He'd seriously fucked up. He'd let his guard falter for a split second and she'd rushed right in, a warm presence in the cold reptilian chambers of his heart.

What if she didn't love him back?

Well...he supposed he deserved that. A cruel monster with long, venomous fangs, he shouldn't be shown softness. It was unwarranted. Unfair. What a waste that would be, if she were to reciprocate. She should have someone better. Less broken. Someone who wasn't the reason her father was now a target for assassination.

Fuck.

He should throw himself off the balcony and get the tragedy over with. No progress had been made on that front, Shido's plans still rolling at full speed with no breaks in sight. If she had any feelings for him now, they would definitely die when the inevitable happened. There was only so much pity she could give him before she turned on him, too. Right?

That was enough wine. He was going to spiral miserably until he did something stupid. Rationally, logically, he knew she had feelings for him that weren't based in magnanimity. But stupidly, emotionally, he couldn't wrap his head around it.

He needed to tell her about her father. _We're partners,_ she'd told him, but he was acting as a lone agent. How dare he have feelings for her, how _dare_ he love her—

He didn't eat enough.

The cold tiles of the bathroom floor were sobering, his thoughts slowly collecting like water soaking into a sponge. More coherent mentally (but sicker physically), he began to retread the jumbled stream of consciousness that had led to that meltdown.

First, he did love her. Which was troubling, and dumb, and potentially pointless, but there was nothing he could do about that tonight. Humans were just chemicals and electricity, but this felt too complex to shut down the way he was able to turn off sensations like hunger and annoyance.

Second, it did matter if it weren't reciprocated. He wasn't going to be abandoned again, or left to rot like a once-beloved childhood toy stuffed into the back of a closet. He shouldn't have texted her. Not knowing was better than rejection.

Third, he needed to admit her father was a target. He could lie about having known for a few weeks, but not saying anything would absolutely destroy whatever relationship they had. He'd rather lose her due to disinterest than his own inability to be honest. She was so open with him, it wasn't fair to hide something so devastating.

Fourth, he needed water, if his stomach would stop trying to mutiny every time he moved. He used to be able to drink a room of middle-aged men under the table as an intimidation tactic, what the hell happened?

Morning found him passed out on top of the sheets, head at the foot of the bed, two cups of water on the floor within reach. He chugged one and entered damage control mode.

He had no new messages. The cursed text he'd sent had a delivery failure status. _Good._ He promptly deleted it. There was no reason to tell her.

She'd be home tomorrow morning—he should clean. And probably put his head back together.

  
  


He was totally right, she was going to pass out for fourteen straight hours. She didn't sleep well on the plane but ended up dozing in the car from the airport. Keys in the door, she had half a mind to leave her luggage in the hallway and go straight to bed.

Oh, right, she had a guest.

Using the last of her energy, she launched herself at him, taking gleeful delight as he swung her up into his arms. She's missed him so, so much.

"You know," she said after a battery of kisses, "as beautiful as those sunsets were, they don't compare to coming home to see you waiting for me." She curled her fingers into his hair, giddy. "Did you get more handsome while I was gone?"

"I think you just forgot what I looked like."

"I did not!" He put her down, but she kept her arms locked around his neck. "Are you feeling better?"

"Much, though I did lose about a kilo and a half—probably water weight from being sick." He yawned. "I've been working all night, do you want to take a nap with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

There was something so comforting about being snuggled up with him, her body tucked easily into his, her back to his chest. Having a bed to herself for a few days had been nice, but she'd missed the gentle sound of his heartbeat lulling her to sleep.

"I missed you," he said into her hair, voice already heavy with sleep. "I'm glad you're home."

"Me too."

She stirred late in the night, the other side of the bed cold. Venturing out, she found him on the sofa in the dark, the blue glow of his laptop staining his face. He glanced up briefly at her intrusion.

"Do you want me to turn a light on?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Sit with me a minute?"

She did, settling onto his lap after he set his computer down. His eyes were hard to see in the dim light, but he seemed tense. "Something up?"

"Yes." He exhaled slowly. "Are you okay with me telling you now, or would you want to wait until morning? It's not good news."

"Let's hear it."

"I need you to promise me you won't shoot the messenger."

"I promise." He remained silent, expression unreadable. She kissed his cheek. "Goro, you can tell me."

"Shido is…changing tactics to blame the shutdowns on the Phantom Thieves. And to do that, he's going to use your father as bait."

It took her a minute to process. Poorly. "Bait?"

"Trick them into changing his heart only to kill him."

"Are you—"

"No." His hands were firm on her waist. "Of course not."

He was hiding something and she didn't like it. Venom leaked into her voice. "I thought you couldn't say no to him?"

"I made an argument against it, that you'd find out if I were directly involved. He relented when I mentioned your revenge would be thorough."

"You're goddamn right it will be." Anger clicked across her teeth. "How do we stop him?"

"I don't know," he said, almost a whisper. "I don't have any idea how to plan for this, or counteract it."

"You don't?"

"No. He intends to use a type of poison but I don't know when. And I can't guarantee he won't try to rope me into executing it anyway. I've been thinking about all the possibilities to stop this but nothing will really work."

She was quiet, hands steepled over her lips. "I'm going to do what I can on my end, but I need you to tell me everything, every little detail even if it seems useless."

"Now?"

"In the morning, it's well after two." Standing up, she took his hands. "If I have to process this tonight I will end up furious, and I can't sleep when I get like that."

"I have work I should finish."

"Goro, bed, you just got over being sick."

He was out cold in a matter of minutes. She had to wonder how poorly he slept without her around. They'd talked about his nightmares ad nauseum and she tended to be a little worried whenever he spent nights alone. With a small smile, she brushed his hair back and pressed a kiss to his forehead. What a beautiful, troubled boy. She'd burn the earth down to cinders for him.

It took an hour in the morning for him to relay all the details of Shido's plan for her father. She screamed at him for a solid ten minutes for offering an alternative to a mental shutdown, used up all of her energy, and slid down to lie on the floor, empty. It wasn't his fault. She was hellishly angry, but it wasn't his fault. As he explained further, it was clear it didn't matter what he'd said to Shido—her father would still be the next target and they weren't interested in letting him live.

"I got orders to take out your principal while you were gone, too."

"God in hell," she muttered. Her voice was ragged from yelling, throat raw. "Did you?"

"Yeah." His head weighed down on her stomach. "Kind of can't get around most of these hits."

"Why him?"

"Low on the chain of command and wanted to spill to the cops after getting burned. Really narcissistic piece of garbage though."

"That's not a good justification."

"I'm not trying to justify it. I don't want to justify these horrible things I'm ordered to do."

"I suppose I'll be hearing about that in school tomorrow."

"Likely. Nothing else eventful happened. I was left to my own devices for the most part due to being sick."

"If that's all at the moment, I think I should go check up on my father. See what I can start to do about maybe getting him to leave the country or something."

"I'm not sure how helpful that'll end up being."

"It's worth a shot."

"Is it all right if I stay here while you're out?"

"Of course. I shouldn't be long anyway."

Her father was at his office on a Sunday, which seemed to be a more common phenomenon. The corporate headquarters was enormous, occupying the top six floors of a massive office building in Shinagawa. She texted ahead of time that she'd be visiting and he seemed pleased. Abnormally pleased.

"Haru, sweetheart, take a seat. I have good news."

"Hopefully it balances out my bad news." She crossed her ankles and rested her hands in her lap. "Shido wants to kill you."

"I'm not surprised; I bet he feels threatened with my campaign going so well."

"I'm not joking. They've put a hit on you, the same way you put a hit on the CEO of MOS Burger."

"And what's the likelihood of them being successful?"

"High."

"I've got security, that can always be increased. It's not like they can kill you in your dreams."

Was he not taking this seriously? "Father. This is a threat on your life. It might be better to lay low or go overseas for a month or two."

"I can't do that, it would be a detriment to my campaign."

"Your campaign is worthless if you're dead."

"I'll think about it."

"Can you do it a little quickly? This is time-sensitive—"

"I said I'd think about it, end of discussion."

She crossed her arms and sat back, pissed. "Fine. What's your good news?"

"I've found you a respectable suitor."

"Excuse me?"

"I wasn't going to let you get stuck with such low-born riffraff."

What the fuck did he just call Goro? "You want to move me from retcon on the guy threatening to kill you?"

"You seem apprehensive. Isn't it exhausting having to deal with such peasantry constantly?" His face contorted into a look of extreme disapproval. "Or have you grown attached to the trash?"

"Of course not, but this is terrible timing."

"It's fantastic timing, actually, since the young man I've selected comes from a very well-connected political family."

"Do my feelings on the matter not count?"

"No. This is for the good of the family, Haru. Family always comes first."

Bullshit.

"He's due in for a meeting with me in a matter of minutes, but I'll let you two get acquainted first."

"I'm not—"

"Are you threatening to disobey me?"

She scowled but held her tongue, fury cold in her veins.

"Good." He pressed the comm on his desk. "Kobayashi, please send Sugimura in."

Haru whipped around in her chair when the door opened. Oh fuck no, not this cunt. Didn't Father remember the scandal from last year's holiday party?

"It's rude to stay seated, sweetheart."

Teeth clenched, she stood, facing the slimy excuse for a human. Her eyes stayed narrowed as she bowed.

"Please make yourself at home," her father said as he maneuvered to the door. "I'll return in ten minutes."

The door closed and she felt bile rising up her throat. Abandoned.

"You're adorable," Sugimura said, lifting her chin with a finger. "I've never had one so young before—"

Haru slapped his hand away with full force, teeth bared. "If you even _think_ of touching me again I will _ruin you."_

"Those are some big words for a small rat," he snapped, anger hard on his face.

"The Nakamura twins settled out of court, right? Closed file? Give me a reason to leak the details, please, I am _dying_ to spill blood."

"Do that and you're damning yourself out of the marriage pool. No one likes a narc. Your daddy might even cut you off."

"Good. I'd rather kill myself than have to fuck you." Haru stalked around him to the door, never taking her eyes off him. She might have fangs but she'd be screwed if he tried anything physical—he was easily twice her size. "Tell my _daddy_ I had to leave early, looking at you is giving me a migraine."

"Feisty, aren't you? Good thing I love a challenge."

Disgusting. Not dignifying that with an answer.

She was still shaking when she got into the elevator. Her father knew exactly what Sugimura was, no question. He'd been present last year when the scandal broke. And yet he still wanted to give his only daughter to such an abusive piece of shit? Shido could _have him_ if the Thieves weren't able to change his heart.

HARU: not only did he not listen, I am now engaged

HARU: to the biggest piece of shit in the metropolitan area

HARU: we're going to need a new game plan

"Big Bang Burger was an appropriate name. Fuck Kunikazu and headquarters straight to outer space."

_Keywords recognized._

_Entering the Metaverse. Please enjoy your stay._

A rush of blood to the head sent her dizzy to her knees, elevator shifting like the horizon in a heatwave. Cold metal greeted her outstretched palms. Standing, the view through the windows reflected a bustling space port, something straight out of a 60s TV series.

Did that voice say Metaverse? Wasn't that the same liminal space Goro infiltrated on Shido's orders?

Her phone had no signal, a red application taking up the entirety of the screen with a small, not very detailed map. She sat down to rack her brain. Her surroundings had changed and she was under a distinctly uncomfortable impression that she was being watched somehow.

The elevator doors pinged open and she, dazed, stepped outside into a chrome and glass room. There were voices down the corridor.

"It's no use, it's got a biometric lock. We can't—Skull, for fuck's sake stop body slamming the door, you're going to hurt yourself."

"Are we gonna have to do something in the real world again like Madarame's Palace?"

"I don't know, I can't get a good read on the security system without an access point."

"There's not much use staying here wondering, especially with all of the shadows mulling around. Navi, is there a terminal in the area?"

"It's behind the door. Because of course this can't be easy."

"Well, shit."

"Hold on, everyone shut up. Joker, I'm sensing another presence."

"A shadow?"

"I don't think so. It feels human."

Footsteps. A group of kids and a demon-looking thing in weird costumes ran into view through the massive hatched door.

"Fuck."

"I thought you checked the area before we entered!"

"I _did_ you nimrod!"

She locked eyes with the boy who seemed to be in charge. Oh, _shit._ He recognized her too, if the quick grimace on his face meant anything.

The leader of the Phantom Thieves was best friends with their most outspoken critic.

How ironic.

"It's a biometric door?" She stepped towards the group. This was an opportunity to fix her father she couldn't—wouldn't—overlook. "I can open it."

Ren held up his hand against the resulting protests. "We'll take whatever help we can get. Get behind us once it opens. Navi, what's the security level?"

"High. She's tripped the ratings."

"Everyone get ready. After you."

_Okumura Haru. Biometrics recognized._

The bulkhead hissed open onto a comically evil-looking version of her father in a space suit. A shadow, if she was remembering correctly. Anger surged, locking her in place at the sight of Sugimura.

"Haru, sweetheart. Come to assist in taking out these criminal hooligans?"

One of the girls behind her attempted to step forward but Ren stopped the advance with a hushed _let's see what she's got._

"After today? Absolutely not." She spit, fists clenched at her sides. "I've come for your corrupted heart and I'm not leaving without it."

"Betrayal at the hands of my own daughter? You're not worthy of the Okumura name. Sugimura, do with her as you will."

"Oh, I will. What a tight squeeze, I've been dying to get a taste."

Her head throbbed, _hard._

_Darling Princess, come for the King's sullied crown. Your mind has been set on betrayal from day one. Will you take up arms to defend your honor?_

"Gladly."

_Untie your mask, then, my beautiful girl. This vulgar masquerade has become such a bore._

_I am thou._

_Thou are I._

With a scream, she tore off the covering blinding her vision. Blood oozed down her face, pain white hot like a cattle prod, egging her on. The weight of an axe felt familiar in her hands.

The snarl in her voice was intoxicating to her bloodthirsty ears. "Ready to make him dance, Milady?"

_It'll be a waltz to remember._

The Thieves rallied behind her.

"Holy fuck, is that a machine gun under her Persona?"

"Joker, we're standing by."

"He's getting ready to strike. Navi, are we starting on the defense?"

"No need, you've got way more than enough firepower."

If they could all just _shut up_ and stop stalling.

Energy thrumming through her body, she picked up the axe and charged, landing a disorienting blow on the robot version of Sugimura. The fearsome force knocked the hulking machine off balance. _Cathartic._

A sheet of ice smacked him on the other side and the boy with the Kabuki-style mask raced up the steep incline, sword drawn. "Time this with me. Three, two, one—"

She swung up as he sliced down, severing the circuitry in the right arm. 

"Beautiful synchrony," he said as he landed. 

"Nice work, Fox! Tag me in!"

He high-fived the girl with shoulder spikes. "Do my work justice, Queen."

"With pleasure." She caught Robo-Sugimura's clamped hand with a massive set of brass knuckles and redirected the blow to the floor. "Skull!"

"Fuck _yeah_ baby, here we go!" The blond guy with a spiked bat nailed a shot to the robot's head. "New girl, you're up. High-five me!"

Power rolled up Haru's arm and she could feel her weapon grow lighter. She cleaved the head with a swift swing, like a pristine blade slipping easily through buttery flesh.

Energy drained as soon as the battle ended, her knees buckled. When had her clothes changed?

"Joker, we've got shadows approaching fast. Hey new girl, can you stand?"

"Barely."

"Skull, Fox, help her, we're getting out of here."

"Roger, leader."

"Wait, I'm not sure I can—"

Dizziness overwhelming, she lost consciousness as they pulled her to her feet.

She came to on an unfamiliar sofa, several pairs of curious eyes watching.

"How are you feeling? That was quite an awakening."

Did that cat just talk?

"Morgana, don't get so close, give her some room to breathe."

"Sorry."

"Are you talking, or am I hallucinating?"

"Talking. You can hear me once you've been in the Metaverse—that's where we just were."

"That was crazy for a rookie! Your Persona is fuckin' scary."

"Of course you'd be afraid of a strong girl."

"Morgana, Ryuji, knock it off," Ren scolded from the head of a small table. "Haru, right?"

"Yeah. You're the Phantom Theives, aren't you?"

"Correct. I'm Ren, around the table clockwise is Makoto, Ann, Yusuke, Futaba, Ryuji, and Morgana. Welcome aboard. That is, if you want to be aboard, though that was a pretty decisive speech you gave."

"I do. You're going after my father's heart, I want to help."

He grinned. "Fantastic. Ready for a run down, or do you need a few minutes to wake up?"

"I'm ready."

Ren and Makoto did most of the talking, with Morgana butting in to correct or add information. She had heard the general stuff before, but knew better than to admit she had a connection to that world. How they changed hearts was a new bit of info, something that might be useful to Goro—

She couldn't tell him. That would be confessing she knew who his targets were. And, while they'd only just met, she liked these kids.

Maybe keeping one secret wouldn't be the worst.

"Hey, Haru, can you hang back a few minutes?" Ren asked as they started to disburse for the night.

"Sure."

"Futaba, take Morgana downstairs, we'll only be a short while."

"No problem, boss! C'mon kitty, let's went."

Ren's expression changed once they were alone, jovial to serious. Haru mirrored his posture. "The girlfriend of Akechi Goro, a member of the Phantom Thrives. Something tells me this might get ugly."

"I have no intention of telling him. You and I have the same goals at the moment. Once this is over, I plan to bow gracefully out and keep quiet about my involvement."

"And I should trust you because?"

"I'm not about to sabotage my relationship." She folded her hands. "Keeping him is as important to me as saving my father from himself."

Ren was quiet, thinking. "All right. Make a deal with me. I'll keep mum if you do, and we'll part ways when we're done, passing like ships in the night."

"Deal."

"Great, shake on it. Oh, before you go, we need a codename for you."

Her costume looked like a musketeer with a black mask. "Noir."

"Noir. All right. I look forward to fighting alongside you."

"Likewise."

On her way home, she pushed away the sinking feeling that something about this plan was going to end horribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooooooh boy oh boy this is such a mess
> 
> I know I'm taking liberties with how the Metaverse fights work, but I feel like reading through a turn-based battle would be terribly boring when action is the main idea.


	8. liar liar, plants for hire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellllo everyone! Sorry for that mini hiatus. I was traveling, hurricane knocked out the power, and I moved within the span of a week. Work has been super busy as of late (+ am still unpacking) but I'm going to keep updating at least once a week.

Morgana leapt onto the desk as Ren attempted to get the rest of his history homework done. The added guests weren't helping.

"Unless you've got the answer for this question on the Holy Roman Empire, I don't want to hear it."

"The what?" Morgana sat in the middle of his open textbook. "Anyway, did any of that feel fishy to you?"

"Not as fishy as Inui-sensei will find my lack of correct answers tomorrow."

"She seemed too quick to get everything. Futaba, back me up."

"I'm with Mona, she got it dummy fast."

"Why are you still here?"

"Bored."

"Go be bored at home."

"Nuh. Mona, whatcha thinking?"

"I think Ren knows something."

"Well, I think I don't know anything about the Holy Roman Empire and I'm going to get my ass whipped if there's a quiz tomorrow. Both of you shut it or get out."

"Like, she just happened to be in the area and wasn't confused? Awakened a Persona almost as soon as she confronted her dad's shadow, with no inner conflict? Doesn't it just seem strange?"

"Morgana, off my book."

"And she was strong too, slapped the shit out of her—was that her fiancé's shadow?" Futaba lowered the volume on her game. "He seemed like a dick and a half."

"Her fiancé?"

"Um, hello, Earth to Ren, were you not paying attention to her angry tirade when we asked why she wanted to join?"

He must have spaced out. Engaged but still seeing Akechi.  _ I'm not about to sabotage my relationship _ , she'd said before leaving. This must be more convoluted under the surface than it appeared.

"Anyway, you're hiding something." Futaba twisted around on the couch to face him. "Care to spill?"

"I'd rather not."

"Thousand yen I know what you're hiding."

"Two you don't."

"Bam." She held her phone out to Ren. "Hacked her shit when she was out cold."

"Futaba, what the hell."

"Gremlin tendencies never die. Also I was super sus and wanted to be sure she wasn't evil. So, dear leader, please peep this pic."

He nearly choked on his tea. That was clearly Akechi, likely Haru, and definitely Futaba putting two and two together almost immediately. "Remind me to never keep a secret from you."

"Hold up, did you know?"

"Yeah, they both frequent Leblanc together. You've seen them here."

Her mouth fell open. "Oh my God I  _ did _ recognize her!"

"Don't either of you mention anything to the others, okay?" He narrowed his eyes, expression serious.

"Lie to the group that our new party member is sucking face with our arch rival? Got it, great plan."

"Futaba, I mean it. It's obviously a conflict of interest for her too; she plans on leaving once we're done with her father's change of heart."

"This is still a big deal."

"It's not our secret to tell. If she wants to divulge, fine. If not, don't say anything."

"I'm with her. I don't like this at all." Morgana moved to the top shelf of the desk. "It feels disingenuous."

"I'm not asking you to like it, I'm asking you to do it. We want her to trust us if we're going to work together and spilling secrets is a great way to break trust, permanently.  _ Especially _ when you figured this out by hacking her phone."

"But—"

"No. I'm sure she's got her reasons for keeping it from us, and I can see why with the way you're acting."

With a grumble, Futaba sank back down on the couch.

"Make it an item on your list, don't tell people shit you learn from snooping."

"Fine."

"And look up what year the Carolingian Empire broke apart."

  
  


She was late getting back and had left him hanging with that string of ominous texts for more than a few hours, which had left him on edge. Unable to focus on the report he was cobbling together for work, he'd showered, paced, ate everything in the fridge (he was ravenous now that the... _ episode _ had concluded), paced more, and went off at one of Shido's advisors on a conference call. Incompetent waste of space.

It was well after six when he heard a key in the door. Good, finally, he needed to bounce an idea off her. Walking into the hallway, he—

He watched a completely unknown man step through the door. The hair on his arms prickled and his endocrine system clocked into overdrive. Subconsciously, he shifted into a predatory stance, muscles coiled to strike. Stalking forward slowly, he cocked his head, teeth bared. "Can I help you?"

The intruder made eye contact with him. "Ah, the old man mentioned you. Keeping her warm for me?"

"Excuse me?"

"Didn't you hear, kid? You're being replaced. And I'd appreciate it if you could scram, she's expecting me."

He had never felt so grateful for being tall, looming easily over the pompous twig. "You have ten seconds to get out or I'll break your face."

"Big threat for such a little prince. I'm sure you don't have the—"

Too slow.

Adrenaline screamed as his fist smashed into the fiancé's orbital bone, pain sharp and hot before snapping out of existence. He watched giddily, high on the violence, as the intruder stumbled backwards with a yelp.

"Showing up late when you expected her to be home alone?" His hands curled around the other man's neck, constricting slowly, a python waiting with open jaws. "Did you plan on  _ raping her?" _ Tighter,  _ tighter. _ "You should be thankful you ran into me, consider it a life lesson." Akechi loosened one hand and gripped his jaw. "I'm afraid I'm letting you off easy. Maybe I should break your nose too."

_ Make him bleed, baby boy.  _

**Goro. You're losing yourself.**

"I'll pay you if you don't. Please—"

He shoved the guy out the door and slammed him onto the wall near the elevators, forearm jammed against his windpipe. He was close enough to tear his face off with his teeth. "You're going to give me that key, tuck your tail between your legs, and never show your weasel face here again. And if you don't run, I'll shove my foot so far up your ass you'll be able to taste the leather. Am I clear?"

The key plinked softly on the carpet.

"Get out of my sight."

Door locked, his hand began to throb. Haru came home to find him taping ice around his knuckles, an assortment of bandages and ice packs on the kitchen counter.

"What in the world happened? Are you okay?"

"Your fiancé took it upon himself to surprise you with a visit."

He watched the color drain out of her face. "Sugimura did what?"

"I took his key."

"He had a  _ key?!" _ She whipped her phone out, fingers quick with a long text. "I'm getting the locks changed tomorrow morning. Father must have given it to him."

"Is your dad aware of what he's like?"

"Yep. Everyone knows, no one wants to say anything. Can't upset the brat who can cry to daddy when daddy owns half the politicians in Tokyo. Shitty society we live in." She looked up, concerned. "Did he hurt you?"

"How little faith in me do you have?"

"I'm sorry, I'm looking at your hand and thinking the worst."

"I'm fine. This is from a well-aimed punch." He wasn't entirely certain his knuckles weren't broken, but didn't want to worry her further. "I'm not comfortable with leaving you here by yourself, though."

"Do you think he'll come back?"

"I don't know, but I don't want you to find out when you're alone."

She chewed on her lip, thinking. "You could move in. I'm going to, at least temporarily—I prefer to not be in the house while Father is trying to sell me off. I'd feel safer if you stayed with me."

A spark of endorphins rushed down his spine. "You feel safe with me?"

"Yeah, I'm under the impression you'd probably murder Sugimura if he has the balls to show up again." Her eyes lit up. "Could you?"

"Kill your fiancé?" That sounded intoxicating, the taste of the headrush creeping into his peripheral—"No, I'm not doing that."

"Bummer. Maybe I will."

"My goal here is to not have you end up like me." He kissed her cheek, her neck, arms around her waist, good hand wandering.

"You seem a little…excited."

Sex and violence went together, didn't they? "I might be."

"Would it be a turn on to drag me to bed kicking and screaming?"

"It would, a lot."

"Well, then." She kissed him, hard. "Ruin me."

  
  


The Phantom Thieves had an extremely active group chat and she frequently felt she wasn't sure what was going on with any of them. Futaba and Yusuke argued, constantly. She'd asked Ren at some point if they were flirting and his response had been a shrug and a  _ I don't think either of them know what flirting is. _ Makoto seemed to be the group mom, constantly chasing after Ann and Ryuji with homework and study plans. Ren watched the chaos with a grin and a cup of coffee.

LUPIN III: hey hey hey

LUPIN III: mementos today?

FAYE VALENTINE: I have a shoot later, sorry!!

GOHAN: I'm in!

GOHAN: Ren wtf are these names

LUPIN III: my cat and I had a classics marathon this weekend after  _ y'all bailed on us _

KENSHIRO: I can spare some time later

KENSHIRO: Is this another Fist of The North Star reference?

MONONOKE: Regretfully I have a painting to finish this evening and must bow out

GOHAN: also you're broke and can't afford the train fare?

MONONOKE: Also I'm broke and cannot afford the train fare

CYBORG 003: not that anyone thought differently but I'm free

MONONOKE: Do you ever have obligations?

CYBORG 003: idk inari, keeper of the futab, do I?

LUPIN III: haru?

LADY EBOSHI: I'll be there!

LUPIN III: nice nice nice see the yay-sayers after 4

The smell of coffee and curry was beginning to feel like a warm greeting. It had been about a week and a half since she joined the team and she was spending most of her free time with them either on the roof of Shujin or in the attic of Leblanc.

She was quietly grateful Goro had been thrown into overdrive with campaign meetings and studying, not noticing her lack of presence. Sure, she missed seeing him more often, but this kept her new extended absences less conspicuous. 

"Three out of four, you're just in time." Ren was seated at the table in the attic beside Ryuji, the two of them mulling over a sea of textbooks. Futaba was in her normal place on the sofa, handheld raised above her head.

"They're not actually studying," Futaba said without looking away from her game. "Trying to escape Makoto's wrath."

"She gets way too worked up about our grades." 

"Because you keep almost flunking."

"I do not!"

"What were your grades on last term's exams?"

Ryuji slunk down with a grumble. 

"Anyway Haru, do you have any homework to do? We'll look less like slackers if you're over here too."

"Sure, I can look busy."

It took about ten minutes for Ryuji to get distracted again.

"Hey Haru, no offense but are you like, smart?"

Futaba made some kind of garbled laughing sound. "Ryuji, full offense but what kind of question is that?"

"I don't know! I'm looking at the math she's doing and I'm lost!"

"So instead of asking what she's doing, you ask if she's smart?"

"Oh lay off."

"To answer your question and keep this argument from going on any longer, it's work for a college class. I take one or two every semester."

"Hold up, you what?"

"Father wants me to be ready to pick up the family business as quickly as possible, so I've been doing extra coursework for as long as I can remember."

Ryuji whistled and sat back in his chair. "Your dad's kinda nuts."

"He is, which is one of the reasons I want to change his heart."

Footsteps on the stairs, Makoto made a well-timed entrance. "You'd better not be slacking off with all this chatter."

"Ah, Makoto. Ready to go?" Ren asked, spinning a pencil between his fingers.

"You look like you're having too much fun to be studying."

"Maybe I enjoy it, who knows. Question still stands unanswered."

"I'm ready, but I'm leaving my books here. You too, Sakamoto, we're doing your biology homework after we get back."

"For real? Has anyone told you that you'll make a terrifying mother one day?"

The trip to Mementos shifted to more lighthearted conversation topics. Ann's birthday was creeping into view in November, the Shujin cultural festival was in a few weeks, and her deadline of being sold to Sugimura (like that was happening even if they weren't successful) was less than fourteen days away. Nevermind, that last one wasn't very light and fun.

"Is there a reason we're not changing your shitty boyfriend's heart too?" Ryuji asked once they'd entered the organic-looking labyrinth.

Haru bristled unintentionally at the thought of Sugimura being a choice like a boyfriend, and the implication that Goro was shitty.

"It's her fiancé, doofus," Morgana corrected.

"Is there a difference?"

"They're different people," Haru said and promptly put her foot in her mouth.

"Wait, hold up, you have a fiancé  _ and _ a boyfriend?"

The best lies were offshoots of the truth, right? "I've been seeing someone for a number of months, but Father decided I have to marry another man for the good of his political campaign."

Makoto put one hand on her hip and entered the conversation. "How does the boyfriend feel about that?"

"He's understandably upset." 

That was the understatement of the year. Goro was  _ pissed. _ Far angrier than she. And, secretly, she was enjoying the new snarl in his voice, the way he seemed to flip so quickly from calm to enraged with the mention of Sugimura. She half hoped the asshole would try to break in again just to watch Goro lose his temper and wreck him halfway to Sunday. Something about her boyfriend bruised and bloody but victorious after a fight was a turn on.

Figuring that out would explain why sex had recently gotten rather...destructive. A broken lamp, two shattered glasses, shredded pillows, and a new box of bandages. She'd broken the cartilage in his ear, in return her back had been scratched to hell, pinpricks of blood staining the sheets. He'd thrown gentle out the window and instead opted for violent, animalistic aggression. She had no complaints, aside from the string of bruises currently around her neck and wrists. He tended to play dirty and liked to bite, which made covering up a pain.

"Is there a reason we're not targeting the fiancé in Mementos?"

"Wouldn't it seem too suspicious?" Ren asked. "And it would defeat Haru's objections for marrying the guy, so she'd still be at square one."

"That's a good point, especially since you weren't single to begin with."

"Yeah, so I'd prefer if we didn't meddle until after finishing my father's palace."

"Request accepted. Mona, who are we targeting today?"

Mementos was a blast as usual. It hadn't taken long to get used to the group's fighting style, and beating the shit out of shadows was definitely a needed stress reliever. Things with Father had been getting tenser as her deadline approached, not to mention the crippling guilt of not being honest with Goro hanging over her like a massive storm cloud. Any distraction from the present mess was very welcome.

"Does anyone else's ass hurt from that last fight?"

"Dude, for fuck's sake, we've got three girls with us."

"Hey it was a valid question! Those creeps tossed all of us around like ragdolls. I can't be the only one who landed ass-first, right?"

"Still, phrasing." Ren sighed and shifted around to face the group properly. "Anyway, I'm beat and ready to call it a night. I think we're ready to finish the Palace now that Haru's pretty much in sync with our fighting styles."

"Agreed." Makoto made too hard of a left turn on their way out. "What do you think, Haru?"

She thought Makoto's shaky driving was going to make her go insane. "I'm ready when all of you are."

"It is…lemme check…Monday, so how about Saturday night? Enough time to plan, plus no school the next day in case it's a rough battle." There were no objections. "Awesome, will text the rest of the group once we're out of here."

Saturday. Great. That gave her a few days to prepare an excuse for why she needed to cancel dinner. Which still felt shitty since they'd gotten even less time together since he moved in. Just one more week and it would all be over.

Home after a long day, she dropped her bag on one of the kitchen stools and checked the clock. Six. Time really didn't pass the same way in the Metaverse, did it? Goro wouldn't be home for another three hours at the earliest and it felt unfair to start dinner so early.

Leaning over the counter, she let her mind wander. Lying to him had been easy in the beginning of their relationship. Granted, it was white lies and usually for his benefit. There hadn't been reason to burden him with the turbulent emotions she experienced each time Father had asked her to do something less than savory. Based on how disgusted he was with Sugimura's very existence, those lies were best said, the truth ugly and twisted.

But that hadn't eaten her alive like this was. No, now it was different, worse. Because they'd grown closer? Or had she been changing, too? Guilt wasn't an emotion she was used to handling head on.

Hungry and thinking in circles, she opened the fridge to peruse the lack of snacks. Shuffling containers around, she had a small thought: it was harder now because she'd fallen in love with him. Perfectly reasonable conclusion, it would have been hard not to with the amount of time and trauma they shared.

Nothing in the fridge. Maybe there were biscuits in the cupboard. Oh, that was her phone buzzing. His contact was in need of another update.

♡GORO♡: Hey, I'm going to be working late again today, you don't have to wait up

HARU: again? :(

♡GORO♡: I'm sorry, Haru. Election approaching and all that

♡GORO♡: I'll make it up to you this weekend, I promise

HARU: about that…

HARU: something at work came up Saturday and I'll be out until late

♡GORO♡: Well, shit.

HARU: Thursday?

♡GORO♡: I can't guarantee I'll be able to leave at a reasonable hour

HARU: doesn't matter, I'll cook

♡GORO♡: You win this round

♡GORO♡: I have to run before I get caught slacking off

Thursday. Great. She had to tell him by Thursday, before they stole her father's heart. It felt…important he knew beforehand. Even if he didn't feel the same way. Even if she was effectively throwing herself off a cliff admitting she'd been careless with her feelings. That she'd be happy if he were happy, even if she couldn't be with him, or if he didn't want to love her back. Would he think this was an inconvenience? Or a burden? Best case scenario he broke up with her right then and there and she could stop feeling so guilty about trying to fix the monster her father was turning into.

Would it even make sense for him to love her back? He was still a media darling with enormous sway even if some of his fanbase turned on him after the Medjed heist. And he had power, more than he let on. Beautiful, charming, charismatic Goro who had a smile that ignited a thousand suns. How was she supposed to compete with other potential lovers? She had money, sure, but—had she been buying his attention this whole time? What if he didn't—

_ God, Haru, get a hold of yourself. _

This was an insane amount of insecurity and she wasn't used to dealing with it. Rationality was going to be her only saving grace. She took a deep breath and slid down onto the floor.

One, he hated interacting with most people. The charm was and had always been a farce. He had three contacts on his personal phone: her, Ren, and Sae. Only one of those names had a heart next to it (her doing, but he'd never changed it).

Two, he hated it when she gave him gifts. She couldn't buy him if he didn't want to be bought, and he sure as hell didn't like receiving things. He sucked it up for her sake, but she could see him shift uncomfortably every time.

Three, he came home to her every night, seemed happy to see her, and was quick to settle in beside her when he was back late. She was lying to herself if she didn't think that was extremely telling behavior of her sad, hurt boy who didn't understand his emotions.

Calmer, she stood up and pushed all the negativity from her head. If he wouldn't be home until late, she'd cook and go straight to sleep, drained from the metaverse.

She may or may not have skipped her first few classes on Thursday morning to go in person to toyosu fish market. Did he like tuna more, or salmon? Mackerel? This was a mistake. This was a mistake, she was wasting time, and Makoto was going to kill her for cutting class. She picked at random and nearly threw her card at the merchant in her rush.

Would candles be too much? Unfortunately the thought only struck after she'd lit every candle in the apartment. Which, while not an obscene amount, was still overwhelming. She was really fucking this up in a spectacular fashion. There wasn't time to blow them all out before he got home.

"Did I miss a holiday?" he asked after hanging up his coat.

Her voice came out too high and meek. "Nope."

"Then what's all this?"

"I got a little carried away

"A little?"

"A lot."

At least he chuckled. "Trying to make up for lost time?"

"Something like that. Sit, dinner is almost done."

She felt more nervous before him now than she had on a single date. Or right before their first kiss. That seemed like a walk in the park next to the nonsense she would likely stumble around in a matter of hours. Or minutes. Haru was not a very active participant in whatever conversation they were having, and she had no idea how much longer he could rant.

"Apologies for all the work talk. This was delicious. I fear you could put a number of well-respected chefs to shame with the way you cook."

"You're flattering me."

"I mean it. I eat out for a living, I should know."

She raised her eyebrows with a smirk.

"My god, you know what I mean. Is your head always in the gutter?"

"Well, with stuff like this," she said as she pulled the high collar of her dress away to expose a yellowing lovebite, "on me constantly, it's hard to keep my thoughts chaste."

"Touché."

If she let the topic continue in this direction, they would get immediately preoccupied and she'd never get this over with. The music playing in the other room switched with impeccable timing. "Dance with me?"

"I don't dance."

"Humor me, I'll teach you the basics."

He obliged with a grumble, following her from the kitchen to what she considered the entertaining area.

"It's not that hard once you get the hang of it," she said as she directed one of his hands to her back, hers on where his shoulder met his arm. "Forward two, one to the side."

He did not, in fact, have two left feet. With a decent amount of rhythm, he caught on quickly. Didn't get the hang of twirling her at first, though the mistakes ended with laughter.

Their conversation grew lighter, less serious as the lesson progressed. Now or never. If she were waiting for the right opportunity, it didn't get more set up than this. She let him twirl her again before speaking, needing the courage of small talk for once. Was she only nervous around him?

"When you learn tango, you're supposed to keep a magazine pressed between you and your partner. If it falls, you're too far apart."

"This isn't a tango, is it?"

"No, it's some bastardized foxtrot cobbled together on the spot." She stepped closer, body tight against his. "I can teach you to tango if you want."

"Maybe another night, I like how whimsical this seems in comparison. But," he kissed her forehead, "I do enjoy being this close to you."

She was going to die of a heart attack if he kept being so damn cute while she struggled to get out these very serious little words. "I should have put on heels."

"Too little too late, sweetheart, I out-height you."

"Is there anything you don't out-do me in?"

"Let's see. I'm definitely more charming, popular, handsome, intelligent—"

"You forgot modest."

"Of course, and I'm far more modest, and humbler." He stopped briefly in a turn, grin brilliant. "I'm lying, of course. No one could hope to cast a brighter light than you."

She felt lightheaded as he reeled her in back against his chest. It had to be now. Now.  _ Now, now, now, say something, say it, say it— _

"Do you ever think about how overdone stories portray people falling in love?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's always some big production, like the world stops spinning and a light from the heavens descends to smack the afflicted person in the face. An orchestra plays a serenade somewhere off-screen, problems vanish, like the meaning of life was just discovered. It's never someone staring blankly in the fridge during the awkward period between an early lunch and a late dinner, putting two and two together and thinking  _ huh, that's it? _ It's theatrical, never mundane."

"Maybe people prefer the theatrics to take them away from the dull hum of everyday life."

"But it sets up impossible expectations, makes it harder to know what's real or not."

"Let people live, a little fantasy now and then doesn't hurt anyone."

"That's usually my rhetoric."

"Well, this time it's mine."

She was quiet a minute as he moved one hand to her back, hers snaking around his neck.

"Perhaps you need to hear the words out loud for it to meet your expectations." He dipped her slowly, hair not tied back falling around his face. His expression was serious but difficult to read, another emotion hidden behind a stoic mask. When he spoke, his voice lacked its earlier pompous, flirty confidence. "One caveat, you have to say it first."

"Promise not to drop me?"

"I'm not going to drop you."

"I fell in love with you between the leftover curry and unopened milk."

"I knew that fridge line sounded too specific to be a coincidence."

"Your turn."

"Was this whole night a setup? Candles, jazz, a beautifully cooked fish—you even got me to  _ dance _ somehow."

"Did you purposefully trick me into confessing when you don't—"

He cut her off with a kiss. Long, tender, and firm, unlike the raw unfettered passion he'd shown as of late. Soft, reminiscent of the first night they'd confessed their feelings.

There were undeniable sparks bursting in her ribs, limbs light and ears buzzing.

"I love you too." He pulled her onto her feet, hands on her waist. "But I didn't have the courage to say it first. So in that respect, yes, it was a bit of a trick."

"You know, those are words I never thought I'd hear out of you."

"If you told me a year ago I would ever say that sentence to someone and mean it, I'd have laughed in your face." He didn't miss a beat, stepping off as the song changed. "Though, I'll admit, I was a bit more of a drama queen about figuring it out than you."

"In what way?"

"Remember when I got sick while you were in Hawaii?"

"Yeah."

"I wasn't actually sick with anything. My subconscious was overreacting to you leaving."

"Bullshit no it wasn't."

He laughed. "I didn't take the news very well myself."

"But wasn't it good news?"

"It was, undoubtedly. But the thought of getting soft repulses me. And I…I guess it took a while to understand having emotions doesn't make one soft."

"Soft isn't always a bad thing." She brought them to a stop and laid a hand on his chest. "I have something for you."

He sighed and looked away to hide a smile. "Do you ever stop with the gifts?"

"For you? No." This one had been hiding in plain sight on top of her nightstand for the better half of a month. A small understated box that held a set of small, understated cufflinks once owned by her grandfather.

He took the gift gingerly, keeping a hand over the top. "Don't say it's jewelry."

"It is, but not quite for the reason you're thinking. Open it."

Slowly, he removed the lid, eyes calculating. "One of these days I'm afraid you're going to run out of family heirlooms to give me."

"I am definitely already running out of ones I care about."

His gaze snapped up. "Then I can't accept this."

"I can play the 'slip it into your bag when you're not looking' game as long as you like."

He sighed, knowing she'd win in the end. "These are beautiful, and I don't have a thing to wear them with." He took one of the cufflinks out of the box and held it to the dimmed light. "What's the stone?"

"Alexandrite. You can bang them around without scratching them. They belonged to my grandfather. He was my favorite family member, and you're my favorite person, so it seemed poetic, I guess, for you to have them. I know he'd rather they see use than sit in my dresser drawer for eternity. Here, let me." She took the simple black and silver ones out of his cuffs and replaced them with the blue-violet stones. 

He took her hands when she finished.

"I love you, a lot. And I don't know how to put that into words so I just." She shrugged. "Give you things."

"We don't miscommunicate often, funny how neither of us can figure this one out."

"It's new, unfamiliar." She followed him into his version of a poorly executed foxtrot. "Like you dancing."

"I won't pretend I know what I'm doing, but I enjoy doing it when I'm with you."

"When this is all over, we'll go abroad for a while. Take the next international flight departing, leave the destination up to chance. It'll be an adventure."

"And college?"

"Gap year. We'll only be this young and responsibility-free once."

"Fair. The older we get, the harder it is to find free time."

She leaned into his kiss with a smile, hands moving up his body as they came to a gentle halt, arms around his neck. His wrapped around her back and he picked her up in a fluid motion. She had an idea of what would come next when the bedroom door clicked closed.

Hours went by before the night found her exhausted and satisfied, ear over his still-racing heartbeat. Eyelids heavy, she was in danger of falling asleep, the steady trickle of his nails on the broad of her back lulling. She had paragraphs left to say about how he made her feel, but her brain refused to put a single sentence together. He knew, anyway, there was no way he didn't after tonight. With a contented sigh, she let herself drift off into dreams of a long, stolen summer trip by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh dear, will this come to a nasty head or won't it?


	9. your paranoia could kill a horse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise bitch, I bet you'd thought you'd seen the last of me.
> 
> I had to step away for a bit for two reasons:  
> 1\. real life - I cannot begin to explain how awful my hours have gotten since the quarantini began (my industry is booming rn which is a curse when you work from home)  
> 2\. space - if I'm not careful and am too close to my work, I can derail the whole story out of impatient hedonism/self-indulgence. And considering the amount of time I've sunk into this, I don't want that to happen, so I stepped back. I'm glad I did, too - I had half of this chapter written and ended up scrapping the whole thing. And then scrapped it a second time.
> 
> A friend who betas another project of mine pointed out I write next to no descriptions and that it's very frustrating to read, so I'll be going back through the story and adding where the scenes are lacking.
> 
> This chapter is a tad shorter than the others because of how much time and energy I threw into the art at the end.

His existential dread set in the second she fell asleep. Something was wrong. Something about this was horrifically wrong and he couldn’t piece it together. The weight of her head on his chest was a hot anchor keeping him in place and his anxiety began to skyrocket. There was no way she was telling the truth. No way in any hell. This was a trap, it had to be. Love? Who the fuck would make the mistake of loving him? Maybe he could weasel his way out of bed, pace in the kitchen, or walk around outside until the sun came up. If he could just—

He remained sleepless for the better half of an hour before she stirred. One large brown eyes opened in the dark to scrutinize him. "You're overthinking."

"I'm not."

"You are." She sat up, brow furrowed. "You're a chronic overthinker. I swear you'd be the first person able to think themselves into space with the amount of energy you expend overanalyzing everything."

He had no desire to keep eye contact, her pupils boring holes through his flimsy defenses. "So what if I do?"

"You get less sleep, you end up grumpy for a week, and it eats you alive until something finally knocks your senses back into your pretty little head. Which will be me, knowing how this tends to go."

"Did you mean it?"

She huffed and crossed her arms. "Of course I meant it. I don't say things I don't mean."

"You've definitely told me you liked my sweaters and were lying through your teeth—"

"No one looks good in argyle, that was hardly a lie in bad faith."

"You still lied."

"About a _sweater._ Not something big." She kissed his forehead. "My ear aches from lying on your chest, roll over."

Unwillingly, he obeyed.

"I'm tired of you constantly doubting my feelings." Her lips were warm on the nape of his neck, a small hand coming to rest around his ribs. "I love you even though you vacillate between being a head case and a wolf in a handsome suit. Why are you fighting me this much?"

He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. "I'm afraid of being abandoned again. Of you waking up one morning and deciding you've had enough. Everyone leaves me, and I…" He laid his hand over hers, guiding it closer to his heartbeat. "I don't know if I could handle you doing it too."

She was quiet for a moment, breath tickling his ear. "You've already shown me all the horrible things you can be—jealous, paranoid, vengeful, bloodthirsty—and I'm not afraid of what hides beneath your mask. Stop trying to push me away; I’m not leaving.”

"But—"

"Goro, the more you talk, the more tempted I am to go sleep on the couch."

That shut him up, not wanting to be left in bed alone with his thoughts. With a great effort, he quieted his buzzing mind and let dreams come uneasily in.

She was up before him, the shower audible from the bedroom. It felt incredibly domestic knowing the door would be unlocked, that she expected him to meander in to brush his teeth and try to look less dead while she washed her hair. It was muggy and humid in the room, cotton shirt sticky against his skin. If anything the heat made him sleepier and he was desperate to crawl back to bed, exhausted. But it was a weekday and the detective prince couldn't cut class no matter how much the delinquent under the façade wanted.

His phone buzzed on the marble countertop as he cut a piece of floss. Odd, this was far too early for business emails and Shido usually called. He picked it up to check—

This was Haru's phone. A familiar red top hat icon displayed next to the incoming text.

REN: if anyone has any last minute concerns before tomorrow's infiltration, speak now or forever hold your peas. if you are out of peas to hold, check in with futab, she's been stockpiling since the last Lobster Incident

Infiltration.

Ren.

The Phantom Thieves' logo.

A carpet had been yanked comically out from under his feet, but he couldn't bring himself to laugh.

The water stopped, jolting him from his spiraling thoughts. He fumbled her phone back on the counter as she stepped out, towel wrapped tightly under her arms. This was the physically same girl he'd slept beside last night, but she was suddenly unrecognizable, a doppelgänger wearing familiar skin.

"Good morning sleepy head." She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Feeling rested?"

"Yeah," he lied.

"Your dark circles say otherwise." He had to restrain the flinch at her touch, her fingers tracing the bruises of his sleep-deprivation, the crest of his cheekbones, the hollows behind his jaw. If he closed his eyes, he could lean into her tenderness without panic. "I need to leave in a few minutes, have to check on the garden before class."

This was a signal for him to lean down and kiss her, which he did mechanically. He regurgitated a tired goodbye before closing the door, peeling off his sleepwear, and dousing himself in boiling water.

He couldn't stop the intrusive wiggling, the coiling, corrupt thought that this was a ploy, an act to trick him into a trap. How long had she been working with the Thieves? Since the beginning? Only recently? Her confession was made up, wasn't it? A distraction to keep him away from the bigger picture.

That was a stupid, baseless idea. She knew him, knew he'd think himself to death one of these days. Telling him something he would no doubt snoop to disprove to take attention away from an enormous secret would be one of the dumbest things she could do. Haru was sharp as cut glass, which destroyed the logic behind this reasoning. Too bad he was being emotional, not rational.

There was a mug of coffee and a note waiting for him on the kitchen counter. He read it twice over before tucking it into his jacket pocket, heart torn. It was painfully sweet with a promise of a quiet night so he could catch up on lost dreams.

Maybe this was all in his head.

He was lucky to catch Ren on the platform at his transfer, unruly black hair visible through the crowd of gently curled locks and slicked-back styles. He gave a small wave in greeting, looking as tired as Akechi felt.

"Can you spare an hour or two this evening?" He needed to kill this train of thought before it caught fire and derailed. "It's time sensitive."

"Sure." Ren seemed to elbow his bag. "Where and what for?"

"The jazz bar we went to a few weeks ago. I have a rather important question to ask and I think it best we have time to discuss it."

Ren's train pulled into the station. "It is a plan, my man. Text me when you're headed over and I'll meet you there."

* * *

Ren had wrongfully assumed the text would come in earlier than eight. Ducking around Sojiro after the start of a shift was tricky business, but he managed with the timeless cry of _study group!_ The fact that it was both a school night and way too late didn't seem to matter, thankfully.

The Jazz Jin was an interesting place, one he should visit more often if only to soak in the atmosphere. Murky like an old smoking lounge, the air smelled of perfume and wood polish, not a single cigar in sight. Tonight's act was a small three-man group playing what sounded like the jazz equivalent of dirges, if that were even a thing. Akechi tended to stick out in the low filtered lighting, always at a table by himself and impeccably dressed.

As Ren approached, he noticed a black miasma sinking its claws into his shoulders, sharp and impossibly heavy. He removed his jacket slowly, trying to feel out the source of the tension. Akechi's face was as cold and motionless as marble, lips drawn in a tight line. Only his eyes followed as Ren sat down.

"This is definitely not the mood I was expecting when you invited me out." He removed his glasses, wiping away the gathering condensation. "I assume this is a very burning question based on the fire you're throwing at me?"

"Insightful as always." Akechi moved, finally, breaking the illusion of stone. "Don't you think it's a little ironic you've decided to play the farce of friendship with your most outspoken critic?"

He felt a spike of adrenaline shoot down his sternum. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Aren’t I sitting at a table with the leader of the Phantom Thieves?"

"I take it your deductive skills aren't just for show?"

"They are not." His smile had fangs. "Though I'll admit I'm trying to piece together your motivations for befriending me. Was it all a case of 'keep your enemies closer'?"

"No." Enemy wasn't the right word, either. Personal disagreements weren't cause for war. "You looked like you needed a friend and, as I've been told numerous times, I have a habit of picking up strays."

He narrowed his eyes, posture defensive. "Including my girlfriend?"

Ren groaned. "That is not what—can I start over?" When Akechi remained silent, he regathered his thoughts. "You approached me first, remember? And I took up your offer in part due to how opposed you were to us, but mostly because you seemed socially off, like you didn't have friends our age. I'd just gone through my own friendless shit and figured hey, maybe I can help this guy out. Good karma or whatever." He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "That's why we do what we do. We've all been treated horribly by people with power over us and don't want others to suffer the same fate."

His face remained glacial, impassive, but something was beginning to crack behind his eyes. "How noble for a group of lawless vigilantes."

"Got any better methods for dismantling a corrupt system?" He leaned back, arms over his chest. The music in the background was fading into a low, somber note. "I'm not asking you to like what I'm doing, or to continue being my friend, but a little understanding goes a long way for both our viewpoints."

Akechi turned his head towards the band, the stress in his shoulders loosening an inch. "And Haru, you just let her waltz into your ranks knowing her affiliation with me?"

"She wants to save her father. Was I supposed to turn her away because she has conflicting interests?"

"You trusted she wouldn't leak your secrets to me?"

"She was very clear about not wanting you to know, which leads me to believe you figured this out yourself." He cocked an eyebrow. "Just how insecure about your relationship are you?"

"I'm not insecure, I'm… paranoid." The permafrost began to thaw. "She dropped a bombshell on me yesterday and I can't help but think she had an ulterior motive, like it was only a distraction so I wouldn't find out about this."

"Do you not trust her?"

"I do. But I don't trust my own head. Logically I know it’s the truth, but emotionally—" He laughed, the sound dry and humorless. "I don't know why I'm telling you any of this."

"Because I was right; you needed a friend. It's harder to process conflict when you're all alone." Ren smiled, mostly for Akechi's sake. "Haru was upfront about not wanting to jeopardize your relationship. Ad verbatim she said, 'keeping him is as important to me as saving my father from himself.'"

He looked at if he might break down, eyes focused on something behind Ren's head. With a sigh, he slumped in his chair, Mr. Perfect's mannerisms long forgotten. "I think I might be an idiot."

"Depends; what was that she sprung on you?"

Akechi flushed, face deep red in the low lighting. "Absolutely _none_ of your business."

* * *

Saturday night arrived at breakneck speed. Goro had been at work late Friday night, so late she had not seen hide nor hair of him before falling asleep, and he was gone before she got up in the morning. She hoped to see him before she left, a small part of her wanting him to know she was going somewhere that required a _be safe_ or a _don't do anything stupid._ It was easier for him to say those things than the emotion behind them.

She triple-checked her packing list, antsy. The infiltration would start in two hours and she'd agreed to be early for any last minute preparations. Her bag was stuffed full of extra bandages, antiseptic ointments and sprays, an energy drink that made her teeth vibrate, dried fruit and nuts, a leftover pork bun—should she wear her sneakers instead? Not that it mattered in the metaverse, but would she want to be in heels after running around for several hours?

She was too wrapped up in her internal monologue to notice Goro lean against the counter beside her. Startled, it took a few seconds to regain her wits. He'd said something she didn't hear. "Can you repeat that?"

He seemed annoyed, tension tight across his face. "I asked you if you intended to tell me where you're running off to with a hospital's worth of medical supplies. Those are the last of the band-aids."

She stopped rummaging and, panicked, said the least believable thing that came to mind. "Friend's house."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Are you helping them move to the morgue?"

Her smile was starting to feel more like a grimace as she mentally kicked herself for that atrocious answer.

"I know you're a much better liar than that." He tucked a curl behind her ear. "That scrape on your shin is from the metaverse, isn't it?"

A pebble of fear sunk down into her stomach, gathering weight until it felt like a boulder crushing her insides. "How did you—"

"I had a hunch, spoke with Ren last night to confirm it." His gaze was unreadable, eyes dark but soft. "When I said I didn't want this to be a wedge between us, I didn't mean for you to do it anyway and lie to my face. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to hurt you." Which had clearly happened anyway, pain in his tone no longer subtle. "I only wanted to help them with my father's palace, and I thought if I could do that quickly enough, you wouldn't have to know."

"It was going to hurt one way or the other; this was the worst option. I've been torturing myself since Thursday, afraid your confession was meant to be a distraction so I wouldn't snoop and catch you."

She sucked in a breath. How was she supposed to explain this without it sounding _worse?_ "It was timed like that on purpose, but not for that reason. I had this fear you'd consider my feelings an inconvenience and dump me. If I confessed before saving my father, you wouldn't have to know I was hiding this from you and wouldn't get hurt."

He blinked, befuddled. "You thought I'd leave you? And instead of keeping the thing you thought I'd dump you for away from me, you dropped it point blank because if, on the off chance you were right, you were more concerned about hurting _me?"_ He set off to pace, exasperated.

"It sounds convoluted when you word it like that."

Goro stopped in the middle of the kitchen, hair outlined gold from the setting sun. "Why would you _do_ that?"

"Because I love you." It was the simplest answer, the truest one. "And if I can wound myself to keep you from getting hurt, I will. Especially if it's my own dumb fault."

He leaned over the sink, gaze focused out the windows. "I don't know what to make of you half the time. If you're real or a hallucination. Every time I think I've got it figured out, you say something I didn't know I needed to hear until you put my subconscious thoughts to sound. Once upon a time I knew who I was, but core pieces of my personality keep morphing into unrecognizable shapes. I should be bristling mad right now. I should feel violent, and betrayed, and spiteful. But I don't." He turned to her, brows knit into a deep crease. "What are you doing to me?"

She closed the gap between them, taking one of his hands from its white-knuckled grip on the counter. "The only thing I do is listen. Sometimes I talk a bit of sense back into your head when you're not too stubborn to ignore me. You're making progress by yourself, I'm just here for support."

The force of his hug was immense, breath nearly crushed from her lungs as he held her so tightly to his chest. She was slow to respond, burying her face into his shirt, enveloped in the smell of juniper and birch. "I shouldn't have doubted you." It was muffled against the thick wool of her sweater, words soft on her skin. "I just get so wrapped up in my own head that—"

"I know." She tightened her grip around his waist. "And you're allowed to be mad at me for keeping my involvement a secret."

"Believe me I am, but we can discuss why when I have my thoughts in order." He seemed reluctant to let go and nuzzled into her hair. "I understand why you did it; the execution is what upsets me."

Her phone buzzed and nearly propelled itself across the counter. She was definitely behind schedule now. "I should get going before they ask more questions."

He let her go slowly, hands lingering on her hips for as long as they could. "It'll be late when you get back. I have errands to run this evening, do you want me to pick anything up?"

Hefting her bag over her shoulder, she shook her head. "I'll bribe some curry out of Ren. Unless you're getting tired of it?"

"Never. And Haru?"

She turned, slowing in her haste to run out the door. "Yes?"

That was quite the goodbye kiss, endorphins popping down her spine, body buzzing, his fingers wound into her hair. Did she really have to go? Couldn't she stay here with him a few minutes more? He made the call for her, lips soft on her forehead when he pulled away. "Be safe, and don't do anything stupid."

The aroma of Leblanc always hit before she opened the door. The air outside the cafe was ladened with the smells of ground beans and curry spices, scents swirling into each other as she stepped across the threshold. Their meeting place already felt like a second home, cozier than the rooftop at school and more welcoming than any of her study groups. She'd miss it once they parted ways, her moonlighting as a Thief coming to a swift close in a number of hours. A sliver of hope that she would be able to continue on the team was stuck under her skin, wiggling deeper the more time she spent with the team. She'd have to yank it out later.

"You are quite late," Ren said from his place at the head of the table. Dust moats floated in the long streaks of dying sunlight slinking across the attic floor. "Well, you're first, but still late."

"I had a bit of an entanglement," she said and pulled out a chair. "Though it sounds like you know all about it."

"Ah, yes, I do. He caught me completely off-guard, sorry about that. Is the condescending asshole his real personality, or is that another decoy?"

"That's the real one."

Ren laughed and leaned back. "I was fifty-fifty him being anger personified or pompous ass, kind of glad it's the latter. Anyway, has trouble been cast out of paradise?"

She nodded. "For now, yes. No blood drawn, no screaming."

"So," He leaned in. "What _did_ you tell him Thursday that set him off that badly?"

Fire roared to her cheeks. "Absolutely _none_ of your business."

He howled with laughter, clapping his hands like a seal. "You're ridiculously similar. It is a damn shame you'll never get to team up in the metaverse; it would be peak chaos."

She opened her mouth to argue but cut herself off at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Ryuji's blond hair came into view through the railing, Morgana's voice piercing the air as the two squabbled. Ann and Makoto next, discussing something in hushed tones, followed by Futaba shoving food into Yusuke's hands as she ranted about the latest Featherman episode.

Ren spread his arms as the team took their usual spots around the table. "I'd like to thank you all for accommodating the later time. Now, to business. This doesn't look like it's going to be an easy one and we all need to be on high alert. Futaba, you want to start?"

The logistics of this run were a nightmare. They crowded around one of Futaba's tablets, crude schematics for the treasure room hastily sketched by their artist-in-chief hours earlier. She hypothesized there was a spaceship waiting once they entered the palace—which made sense with the theme, but left questions as to what purpose it would serve, or how it could hinder their progress. Ren provided suggestions and minor translations to Futaba's rapid fire, half-incomprehensible briefing, her speed increasing the more excited she became.

Haru found her thoughts wandering, attention wound up with her growing nerves. This was her father they were discussing. Any wrong step and he could end up permanently brain damaged, or dead. Fear creeped up her spine. Even if they succeeded, his life was still at risk if Goro was unable to counteract Shido. She pushed the idea away, not needing such morose distractions.

She followed silently as they departed, adrenaline kicking in as the lurch of the metaverse dragged on her bones. Time to put this awful thing to bed and, hopefully, get her father back.

It was well after midnight when she finally got her key in the door. She had been on autopilot since the group parted ways at the scramble crossing, eyes and ears processing without brain input. Shoes off, she dumped her bag on the entryway table and went to splash water on her face. There were takeout containers on the kitchen counter and the rice cooker was set to warm.

"Since it was getting late, I thought you might come straight back so I got food." Goro was perched on an armchair in the living room, light from the floor lamp beside him gilding his features. "Are you all right?"

"No." She had to grit it out through clenched teeth. "I'm not."

He set his book down. "Come here."

Haru obeyed, climbing into his lap and trying to hide herself in his frame. Burying her face into his neck would have to do for now, the warmth of his skin a small comfort.

"What happened?"

"I don't remember." She wormed an arm around his waist, her other hand wrapped in the thick weave of his pullover. "Everything was fine. The infiltration was going well, we confronted Father's shadow and he tried to pit me against the team, which I'd been expecting. But then halfway through the fight I saw… _her."_ She could feel the muscles in her jaw involuntarily tighten. "His cognition of me. I knew he considered me a tool but not like that. Vicious, backstabbing, and only good at one thing." She had to pause, to calm her breathing. "I've never felt so exposed, it was like being strapped on an operating table with a mirror inches from my face, chest cavity sliced open and entrails hanging out."

She felt his voice more than she heard it. "You're not like that, Haru."

"But I am. I proved him right." The hiccup in her voice was pathetic. "I saw red and I don't know how the battle ended, just that I needed the most bandages and the group seemed uncomfortable to be near me."

"You don't recall any of it?" he asked after a moment of quiet.

"I remember the feeling. The bloodlust. I _liked_ it." She untangled herself enough to look at him, to gauge his reaction. "I've never felt more present, or alive, than when I'd held my blade against my own father's throat. I'm hungry to sink my teeth into flesh to taste the blood underneath, and that scares me."

His tone was firm when he spoke, eyes gentle, knowing. "This is a narrow path to walk. It's not satisfying and you'll feel worse with every step. I understand how intoxicating it is, how easily you can lose yourself to the hunger. And how hollow you feel when it passes."

She rested a hand on his shoulder and bit her lip. "You get the same reaction to fighting in the metaverse?"

"I do."

"It's such an overpowering pull. How do you quell it?"

"Before I didn't. It was a tool to fight dirtier, and to forget what I'd done. Now I think of how upset you'd be if I acted on it, and how insulting it is for me to give in when you've been so patient with all of my missteps."

She wasn't sure how to respond to that with words and instead curled herself tighter around him, a soft kiss pressed delicately to the sharp line of his jaw. Minutes went by before she spoke. "I think I need to go home tomorrow and see how Father is doing. Both for his sake and my nerves. We did manage to steal his treasure so he should recover quickly according to Ren."

"I hope he's right." His hand trailed up her back, stopping to rest across her shoulder blades. "You should eat something before you sleep, you'll need your energy in the morning."

"You, encouraging me to eat? How the turntables." She laughed, mood lightening a little. "What did you order?"

"I couldn't decide, so a little of everything."

She stood when he nudged her, taking his hands and following behind like a lost duckling. It was both a comfort and a fear to learn he processed fighting shadows the same way as she. The others in the Thieves were less unhinged when it came to battling, seeing it as a means to an end. If any of them felt the same dark, enticing pull to let go of their inhibitions for the sake of unfettered carnage, they didn't let it show.

For some unsettling reason, she didn't want the bloodlust to leave.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the confrontation scene in full three times, woof.
> 
> To the commenter who pointed out a few chapters ago that the leads aren't dark enough—you're right, and it's coming. This work didn't get that title for nothing and I'm sorry it's such a slow burn towards the imminent chaos, but I promise to deliver.
> 
> On that note, if anyone ever has a critique or issue with characterization (or anything else) please bring it to my attention! Getting back into a headspace to write a softer Akechi was like pulling teeth.
> 
> I know not showing Okumura's fight feels like a cop-out but there are four palaces remaining that will be more central to the story and thus not breezed over.


	10. you knew that was coming, didn't you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness hello everyone!! I am so thrilled people are still reading this story! The comments make my whole week and I keep reading them over and over. I did notice I was a dummy and forgot to respond to the ones on chapter 7 (and 8???? What is WRONG with me I am so sorry y'all!!!) and will be doing that soon!
> 
> This chapter got REALLY long!! The whole fic itself is now between 180-200 pages of an Actual Ass Book and that is just wild to me.

Ren sprawled out on the floor of the attic beside Futaba and Morgana, the three of them turning into a group within the group. They had broken for the night at the scramble, but he'd dragged his two accomplices back to Leblanc by the ears. Three musketeers guarding an uncomfortable secret. How was he supposed to start this conversation? The street below his window was quiet, starless sky outside muffling the light. It felt perverse to shatter the pregnant silence with a string of unfocused words.

"What the hell was that?" Morgana did the honors, painfully jabbing his tiny little cat feet into Ren's stomach. "Even Yusuke wasn't that violent about confronting Madarame, and he had every right to be."

"I thought she was actually going to do it." He laid a hand on Morgana's head, mindlessly scratching his chin. "It happened so fast I wasn't ready to stop her. Does the metaverse affect people differently?"

“I don’t see why it can’t, though I have no working knowledge to back that up. I think it might be safe to assume she’s hiding more from us than her ties to Akechi.”

Futaba laughed dryly. “Yeah, like some grade-A bloodlust. Do weapon shapes mean anything about the user’s cognition?”

“It has to do with how we view ourselves. Her sense of justice must fit the narrative of her weapon.”

“An executioner.” Ren sat up, placing Morgana on the floor. “It’s an executioner’s axe.”

“Shit, dude, I don’t want you to be right. That’s hardly in line with our goal.”

“Well, that works out since she intends to leave now that her father’s shadow was defeated.” Ren sighed. “We have to wait and see. I’ll reach out to her once she’s calmed down, ask what the hell happened.”

* * *

She was exhausted by the time she made it home, the sun not even midway through the late morning sky. Sleep had been a fanciful dream and she’d lain awake most of the night, the events of the palace run churning through her conscious thought. Goro had stayed up with her for a number of hours but eventually succumbed to his own fatigue and she hated waking him. At least he was difficult to rouse and she was able to run her fingers along his back, mindless action keeping her fear at bay.

The house looked the same as when she’d left over a month ago, white façade immaculately clean. The foliage was invisible from the street, though the trees in the back had likely finished dropping their leaves this late in the season. One of the butlers held the door for her as she continued up the stone path. The usual oppressiveness of her father’s moods was absent inside but the staff were more on edge than usual. She slid off her shoes and followed her father’s personal assistant up the wide, circular staircase, slippers soft on the polished hardwood.

Paintings lined the walls of the uppermost floor, the catalogue of displayed art rotating as the year passed. It was mostly ukiyo-e now, with European impressionists sprinkled between otherworldly scenes. She stopped in front of a cityscape dreary with rain. It was unfamiliar but poignantly nostalgic and she was caught up in it for too long of a moment.

Her father's PA cleared his throat. "He’s not feeling himself, it's best we don't take up too much of his time.”

Right, he had mentioned that over the phone. “What's wrong?”

“He seems ill. I’ve already called his physician, she’ll be here later this afternoon.” He checked a notepad in his hands. “It started yesterday evening. Late, sometime after dinner.”

“And you didn’t reach out to the doctor sooner?”

“My apologies, I was instructed not to. It was an error on my part.”

Haru sighed. “Thank you, Takahada. You’re dismissed, I know where I’m going.”

He gave her a curt bow and turned on his heel.

The doorknob to her father’s rooms felt like molten iron in her hand. What if they’d screwed up? What if, somehow, her outburst had ruined the whole plot and they weren’t successful in stealing his heart? What did Morgana say the consequence of false action was? Death? Was feeling sick normal?

With a deep breath, she turned the handle. “Father?”

All of the curtains were open, bathing the room in bright sunlight. It washed out the walls, shining white gold on the top of the bureau. Kunikazu sat at his desk in a thick dressing gown, face pale. His smile was weak, lacking energy. “Haru, sweetheart, it’s good to see you.”

She was beside him quickly. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” he said with a soft laugh. “Everything aches a little more than usual but it feels like a weight has been lifted from my chest. My mind is a little foggy, though, and I can’t seem to recall the reason you moved out.” 

“You had me engaged to Sugimura.”

“That slimeball? I find that hard to believe.” Kunikazu frowned. “Are you still seeing that detective?”

Haru faltered. “I—no?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I remember being young, I've had that same look in my eyes before. You’re more obvious than you think.”

She turned away, embarrassed. “Fine, I am.”

“Not very proper to be dating while engaged to someone else. The sooner we get that mess called off, the better.” He winked and she felt, for a small moment, that everything was going to be okay.

“Thank you.”

“Now, on what else can you catch me up?”

She pulled up a chair and launched into Shido’s plan, how they might be using poison as a method of killing. How the public was getting hints about Okumura Foods’ competitors being picked off in the form of strange, unknown illnesses. How whistleblowers online were detailing the horrible working conditions and overtime hours. His expression went from neutral to disgust and, halfway through, he refused to meet her eye. The change of heart had worked; this is the man she remembered, upset with himself for disgracing his father’s legacy.

“It might be safer to leave Tokyo for a few months,” she said softly. “At least until this blows over.”

“I agree, but I feel the need to address this scandal first. Disappearing beforehand would make me look like a coward, and a deviant.”

“Are you sure you have the energy for that?”

“I’ll consult my physician later, but I want to get it done as soon as possible. The longer we wait, the worse public opinion gets.”

She relented. “All right.”

“Now, I hate to throw my own daughter out, but I need to rest. Later in the week, if I’ve got my strength back, we should make dinner together.”

Standing, she gave him a warm smile. “I’d like that.”

Haru left after promising to call later in the evening. She needed to sleep, her nerves fried from hours of stress. On the car ride back to her apartment, she checked her phone to find a long string of texts from the Thieves’ group chat.

BATMAN: haru how is your dad

BATMAN: we’re all anxious

It derailed immediately following with a discussion about cognition changes and what happened with the previous targets.

D'ARTAGNAN: sorry to keep you waiting! he’s doing okay I think, not feeling very well but is acting more himself

D'ARTAGNAN: is that normal?

NARUTO: Madarame acted similarly before he ultimately had a full change of heart. It appears to happen gradually, not instantaneously.

D'ARTAGNAN: do you remember what happened?

NARUTO: He seemed feeble physically, and was extremely distraught to learn the truth of his crimes. It lasted for about a week if I recall correctly.

D'ARTAGNAN: that sounds about right, though father wants to hold a press conference the second his doctor clears him

JOHN CENA: Hopefully he’s feeling better soon. In the meanwhile don’t forget exams are coming up soon. I’ll be available after school next week to study.

JOHN CENA: Ren!!!

BATMAN: futaba picked that one 

DAVY JONES: yo not to kill the vibe but yusuke is like the least naruto guy on the squad

BATMAN: I wouldn’t know I only watch ecchi

DAVY JONES: DUDE!!!!!!!!!

DAVY JONES: I know you’re joking but COME ON!!!!!

She put her phone away when she entered the apartment. It was quiet, the only sound was the hum of the refrigerator. No clacking of keys, no frantic pacing, and Goro was missing from his usual place on the couch. Maybe he’d gone to work?

No, he was still in bed, shades drawn, room dark, covers kicked to the foot. The glow of his phone illuminated a scowl. She knocked on the open door. “It’s after one and you haven’t moved. Something wrong?”

“Yes and no. It’s hard to force myself to do things on a rare day off.” He sat up slowly and stretched, exposing a sliver of his stomach. “You seem to be in better spirits.”

“Father is back to his usual self. I was worried it hadn’t worked.”

“Good.” He patted the space beside him. “If you’re okay with it, I’d like to talk about what you did that upset me.”

She deposited her phone on the nightstand and sat next to him, thigh lined with his. “Let’s hear it.”

“While I can’t say I’m thrilled you involved yourself with the Thieves, it’s not my biggest gripe about the situation. You actually care about your father and I need to stop thinking you feel the same disgust towards him that I do for Shido. I understand why you did it, even if I don't agree with the method.” He twisted his hands into his hair, staring ahead towards the covered windows. “What’s bothering me is the fact you didn’t think you could tell me something, and because it seems like you don’t really comprehend how my mind works, or who I am as a person.”

“Goro, I—”

“Wait for me to finish, please.” His eyes were softer than usual, tired. “You said yourself we’re partners and have to trust each other, and then you went behind my back. And I know now you were doing it to protect me, but it’s not _good,_ Haru. The same way me waiting to inform you of Shido’s plot to kill your father wasn’t good, and I also did that to protect you.” He stopped fidgeting long enough to entwine their fingers, bringing her hand to rest in his lap. “We both think we’re so capable on our own, that we don’t need help, or that asking for assistance is weak and admitting failure. One of us is going to make a fatal error and hurt the other if we keep being secretive and dishonest for what we think is a good reason.

“You should have realized telling me something that emotionally heavy would have started a detonation countdown. No one knows me like you do, and it is extremely uncomfortable to consider that maybe you haven’t been paying attention to my insecurities. Your timing was so awful it’s deserving of an Olympic medal.”

It had been terrible in retrospect, and she was still kicking herself for it. “Can I speak now?”

“You may.”

“I got so wrapped up in the feeling that I felt feverish holding it back. As if I might burn from the inside until I let you know. And you’re right, it was inconsiderate and I knew better, but I forgot to think. I'm sorry, Goro.” She squeezed his hand. “I do pay attention to your fears and all your little intricacies. The way you have to fluff your pillow several times before you sleep. The tenseness in your shoulders when you need something from me, as if you’re anxious I’ll say no. The pattern you tap when you’re thinking. The way you tell me you love me in other words—I’m glad you’re home, I missed you, be safe, don’t forget your coat—and the way you pause after, waiting for me to say it back”

He rested his head on hers. “It’s hard to say the actual words out loud.”

“I know. And it was hard for me to admit to something that I thought would hurt you. I’m so afraid of injuring you, but you’re right, we can’t keep secrets in the hopes we’re protecting each other. It’ll end in misery.” She steadied her voice. “This is all new for me too, caring about you so much it eats into my every thought, knowing you feel the same way back. It’s terrifying. I never thought I’d ever let myself experience this, but I don't regret lowering my defenses to let you in.”

He brought their tangled hands to his lips and kissed the back of her palm. “Why do we always have serious conversations in bed?”

“Because I’m wielding a knife in the kitchen ninety percent of the time and you get tunnel vision when you’re working in the living room.” She pulled his hand back to return the kiss. “And because it feels less vulnerable when we’re sitting in the dark.”

They remained in the quiet until her tiredness caught up to her and she moved to lie down. She felt him bring the duvet over her shoulders before falling into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

He had a nagging sense of dread gnawing at his thoughts the whole day Okumura was supposed to be giving his press conference. Shido had put him on standby far away from the newsroom, unable to intervene in the event his original plan wouldn’t work. Haru had managed to talk her father out of touching any food or drink he did not purchase and prepare himself, which would eliminate almost all routes for poisoning, but still he felt… off. On edge.

She put on a brave face that morning but it did little to hide her worry. Straightening her skirt, she’d let too many sighs spill from her lips to keep up the appearance of being calm and collected. _If anything changes, tell me,_ she’d said on her way out the door. And he’d promised, but he wasn’t expecting to be so removed from the situation from the start.

Which made it worse when the inevitable happened and his stomach plummeted to the center of the earth. He answered his phone on the first ring.

“Promise me—”

“I didn’t.” His eyes were still glued to the broadcast message, the emergency banner streaming across the screen. “Of course I didn’t.”

The silence lasted eons. “I trust you.”

And she hung up, disappearing into the airwaves without another word.

He made a congratulatory call to Shido, nauseous at the sound of his own voice, the condescension and malice oozing from his tone. They would meet tomorrow to discuss next steps now that the plan was operating smoothly. It was only a matter of weeks before the Phantom Thieves would hang from the gallows.

He threw up afterwards, grateful he hadn’t eaten all day.

Time blurred. He was at the office for an uncertain number of hours, at least he thought. One minute he was having a one-sided discussion with Sae, the next he was cradling a glass of water on the sofa, suit exchanged for flannel pajamas. The night’s darkness enveloped him and he felt its familiar pull, thoughts diving deeply into chaos and violence. Even while suffocating in his own vindictiveness, his subconscious was attuned to her, and he found himself at the door before she could pull her key from her purse.

She was so small in his arms, fracturing like frozen metal. He had no words to offer and instead stood in the lightless hallway, holding her upright as she collapsed into his chest. Minutes passed, her fists balled into the cotton of his shirt, the collar wet.

“I hate to break the silence but I can’t get these shoes off standing up and I’m afraid my knees are going to give out.”

“Lean against the wall. You can hold my shoulders if you need to.”

He kneeled down and unlaced her boots one by one, careful not to tug them off too indelicately. Her balance was lopsided and she used one hand to steady herself, the other brushing a strand of hair from his face. Standing, he picked her up slowly, her erratic heartbeat thunderous under his fingertips.

“You can set me down here,” she said as he neared the kitchen. “I want to make tea.”

He obeyed, action slow and gentle. “Can I do that for you?”

Her curls swung limply as she shook her head. “You’re not very good at it, but I appreciate the offer.”

“What can I do, then?”

“Stay with me.” She held her hand out to him. “Please.”

The crack in her voice awakened a sinister emotion, something tar-black and viscous, thicker than slurry. He hated seeing her like this, the strong, vicious heiress reduced to heartbreak, splinters sticking in her ribs, anguish like heavy stones weighing on her skeleton. It was hard to bite back the sharpness in his expression, the itching of his nails to draw blood.

Taking his wrists, she brought his arms around her waist and he was immediately mollified. “I am not going to grieve again after tonight until Shido is deposed. I owe that much to my father.”

“You’re allowed to feel like this,” he said softly, holding her closer. “It’s not abnormal.”

“Have you properly mourned your mother?”

He let out a slow breath. “No.”

“You swore revenge instead, and I am doing the same.” She turned around and placed her hands on his neck. “That man has taken every last scrap of family from us both. We’re doing this together now, and you’re going to let me ask for help.”

“What do you mean?”

“We can’t fight this alone and expect to come out unscathed. I’m not letting you put yourself at risk of breaking again.”

“There you go, thinking of me before your mental wellbeing while going through your own crisis.” He took one of her hands and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Let me be your anchor for a night, you’ve been mine for so many months.”

She broke down slowly, her arms falling until they encircled his waist. The kettle whistled and if she heard, she didn’t react. 

“Your tea, Haru.”

“You can do it,” she said in a small voice. “I’ll tell you when it’s done steeping.”

It felt backwards to have her clinging to him, taking his role as the physically needier partner. She followed along behind as he poured water into the pot, her head ducked under his arm, body warm against his.

“That’s way too much.” He could hear the frown in her voice, earlier sorrow shoved aside to scold him for being imperfect at her art form.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t go bad.”

“It does, it gets stale if you leave it out.”

“So we’ll put it in the fridge.”

“That is _not_ how you make cold tea!”

He laughed at the absurdity of the conversation. “I’ll drink it, I don’t mind.”

She rested her head on his back. “Thank you.”

“For making bad tea?”

“For always being here for me.”

Setting the kettle down, he sighed. “You’d do the same if our roles switched.”

Her grip around him tightened. “I’m grateful nonetheless.”

It was late when she finally put down her cup and decided it was time to feign sleep. He stood beside her as they brushed their teeth, monitoring her expression in the mirror, the glazed look in her eyes. Her actions were mindless, thoughtless, and he had to remind her to remove the cap to her face wash as she stared, puzzled, when the soap remained in the bottle.

“I feel like it hasn’t hit me yet,” she said as she scrubbed makeup off her eyelids. “As if I’ll wake up and this will have been a horrible dream.”

“That's a normal feeling.” He sat on the toilet lid, unwilling to leave her side. “And, unfortunately, this isn’t a nightmare.”

“Does it get easier?”

“With time, but it’ll take a while.”

They laid together in the dark, hands entwined, bare skin of her back to his chest, his mouth on her shoulder. Her breathing was even as she brought his knuckles to her lips. “I’m going to disappear for a week. The police want to investigate the calling card—I think your prosecutor friend is spearheading the effort.”

“Likely. She’s been getting more unhinged as of late, and I fear her intentions aren’t good.” He nuzzled closer to her neck. “I don’t want you to be alone, though.”

“I won’t be; I’m going to call Yuki and Kaori tomorrow, ask them to stay with me until the worst of it is over. There are funeral preparations as well, and company affairs. I’m not sure Father had a will, and as his sole heir I stand to inherit everything. It’ll be messy to sort.”

Still, he’d rather be there with her. “I’m a call away if you need me.”

“I know. Once they’re all out of my hair, I’m going to reach out to Ren, and I want you to come with me.” She seemed nervous, fingers curling and uncurling. “We have the same goal, and we’ll need their help.”

After a moment of silence, he nodded. “If you think that’s our best course of action, I trust your judgement.”

“Wait, really?”

“If they can help, I’ll agree to work with them. But know I’m doing this for you, not because I’m keen on the idea.”

* * *

It was way later than their usual meeting time when Ren unlocked the door to Leblanc, the other Shujin members of the team following in behind him. Not wanting to alert passerbys, he breezed by the lightswitch and started towards the stairs.

“You know, not all of us have an intricate map of this place in our heads.” Ryuji banged his shin and swore.

“It is literally a straight line from the entrance.” Ann stepped around him. “What did you even run into?”

“Chair.”

“Has anyone heard from Futaba and Yusuke?” Makoto asked as she navigated in the dark.

Haru’s voice was next. “Kosei is farther away so it’s no wonder he’s not here yet, but where’s Futaba?”

“Up here!” She stood on the landing as they continued to the stairs. “Figured I’d get a head start. Nabbed Sojiro’s key.”

“He’s going to catch you one of these days,” Ren said with a groan. “Have you found anything yet?”

“The Medjed from the summer was a fake. I’m digging through the code now but it does not have any familiar fingerprints. Or any fingerprints, really, like it was copypasta’d.”

Morgana leapt onto the railing. “It’s been a setup from the start?”

“Correct!” She bounded back to the table where her laptop and various devices were strewn about. “I’m still working on the who and the how, but the polls on Mishima’s website were totally tampered with, too.”

The door downstairs opened and there was another loud bang followed by a softer swear. Yusuke.

“I’ll fetch him,” she said and grabbed a can of snacks.

“All right, well, the gang is otherwise all accounted for,” Ren said as he took his place at the head of the table. “We’ve got a few points on today’s agenda. First one is whatever Futaba’s found, second is, regretfully, the school festival guest speaker.” Every single ballot they’d tallied last night was for Akechi. “After that I guess we need to discuss how to better cover our tracks so we don’t land in another trap.”

Futaba reappeared with Yusuke in tow, snack exchanged for a handful of sketches. “We should get your festival business out of the way first; my discussion will take longer.”

“To fill you two in, Shujin’s whole student population voted to have the menace prince himself show up to look cocky or whatever it is he does,” Ann said with a grumble. “Last year we got an idol group, now it’s… this guy.”

“I feel we’d be inviting trouble by bringing him so close to the critical mass,” Yusuke said as he sat beside Makoto. “Is it really a good idea?”

She shrugged. “No, but we don’t have much choice. Though I’m not sure how to contact him, it’s not as if he gives out his personal number.”

“I have it,” Haru offered. “I can call and ask.”

Ren blinked, an uneasy feeling settling into his stomach. “Now?”

With a nod, she flashed him an odd look. “Better to get it over with, right? And if he says no we have some time to find a replacement.”

This was code for something he wasn’t picking up. “Make it quick.”

Haru stood, smoothed out her skirt, and disappeared down the stairs.

The second she was out of earshot, Ryuji turned to the party. "Anyone else wondering why she has that guy's number?"

Ann didn't look up from her magazine. "Pretty sure they're dating."

Ren's gaze whipped to Futaba, who gave a tiny shake of her head and mouthed _it wasn't me!_

"Bullshit, really?"

"It's an open industry secret he's not single; even I've heard his producer complain. Rumor is the girl is high profile herself. Match that with the six-hundred-thousand-plus yen watch he's been wearing and the fact that Haru has no issue calling him at a late hour; she's the girlfriend." She glanced up to see all eyes on her. "What?"

"You figured all of that out? I thought we were the group idiots together?"

Her magazine connected with Ryuji's face. "Just because I'm not good at tests doesn't mean I'm dumb!"

Any further discussion was cut off by Haru's return. She gave a small bow and returned to her seat. "I apologize for being disingenuous about this, but I don't think it would have worked had I asked permission first."

Another set of footsteps on the stairs. Akechi stopped at the top of the steps, a smirk sharp on his lips. "I had a vague idea about who all was behind the heists. Though I'll admit I'm a bit surprised by your involvement, Niijima."

Makoto's fist curled on the table.

"Before any of you jump to conclusions, Haru didn't rat you out and I'm not here to antagonize. Instead, I'd like to make a deal, as I believe a truce would benefit us both. It's come to my attention we have the same ire for the perpetrators of the mental shutdowns. I'm sure you've realized by now you're being framed. May I join the table?"

When no one objected—too stunned to argue—he sat beside Haru at the other end. Ren watched as both of their masks fell away, pleasant exteriors melting into sharp teeth.

With a brief glance at the company, Akechi launched into an explanation. “There is a group of politicians behind the mental shutdowns, using them both for their own means and as a hired service to garner wealth and extortion material. They are power-hungry, vicious, and not above committing crimes against the state and society to get their way. The end goal is to 'yes man' their way into office and placate the masses, making the populace less likely to question motives or the inherent destruction of the our cultural cornerstones. What they lack in competence they make up in perseverance.”

Haru took over when he paused. “This is the group that had my father killed for daring to challenge their power, albeit in an equally despicable way. He had used their services previously and I was naïve to think he would come out of this alive. Every last turncoat has met an untimely demise; when crossed, these people are out for blood.”

Morgana’s tail swished and he wandered closer to the center of the table. “Did you know this before finding us?”

“Yes.” She nodded once, face gathered into delicate steel. “One of the reasons I agreed to join the team was because there was a hit on my father. Unfortunately his change of heart didn’t matter in the end.”

“How did you know he was going to be targeted?”

“Me.” Akechi folded his hands. “They’re my employer. Okumura's popularity on your fansite was a fabrication meant to set you up.”

Ann scowled. “You work for them? You’re casually telling us this and we’re just supposed to take your word that you’re not going to turn us in?”

“I am acting as a double agent. I do not and have never had any loyalty to this group, and I intend to blow them up from the inside. Which is the reason Haru and I formed an alliance in the first place; we were both asked to spy on the political competition.”

Morgana settled onto his haunches. "An alliance?"

"I have been asked to form relationships with men to gather information in the past." Haru said the sentence as if it were dancing along the edge of a blade. "This time the objective was mutual."

Ann sat up straighter. "So you're not really dating? Honestly from the way your producer complained it sounded pretty real."

"That _is_ the point of faking a relationship," Akechi said with a dry tone. "Though maintaining the illusion any longer is pointless, especially since my employer will be suspicious."

“You never mentioned what kind of work you do for this group." Makoto steered the discussion back on topic. "If you’re intimately familiar with their plans, I’m hesitant to consider you anything less than dangerous,”

“You’d be correct to assume I’m dangerous; I’m the hitman.”

Ren spoke, finally. “ _You?_ You’re the masked assassin we’ve been looking for?”

“Surprise, I’ve been in your peripherals the whole time.” His expression was anything but self-congratulatory. “I foolishly admitted I had access to the metaverse and have been roped into this game since.”

“That’s murder.” Futaba’s hands were shaking beside Ren. “You willingly—”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” His eyes darkened. “When you’ve watched someone get shot point blank in front of you for making a careless mistake, you can chastise me for my actions, but not before. I’ve committed countless atrocities but do not for a second think my participation is enthusiastic or willful.”

Ren cocked his head, laying a hand on Futaba’s shoulders. “And Okumura?”

“My father was poisoned slowly over the course of several months, the final dosage administered before the conference. It mimicked a heart attack and, with the buzz about him being a target for the Thieves, the media jumped to their own conclusions before his body was even cold." Her jaw was tense, last words grit through clenched teeth. "Of course the medical examiner was paid off so it didn't matter, but they know I am aware of their execution services. This change in method was deliberate, believing if I made the connection I would seek retribution.” 

“They’re afraid of _you?_ ” Ryuji asked, tone skeptical.

She crossed her legs and leaned her elbows on the table. “Do not mistake my politeness for subservience.”

Ren made a mental note to watch Haru more closely. “All right, so your anger is properly placed, but Akechi, why did you get involved?”

“My vendetta is also extremely personal. The head of the cabal is directly responsible for my mother’s suicide, and for making my life a living hell. I'd like to point out he's also the reason you've been branded a delinquent. High profile womanizer pushing blame onto children; sound familiar?"

His mouth felt dry. "You're fucking with me."

"Bald, pompous, worst glasses imaginable."

Shit. "They're orange right?"

His smile was catlike. "Indeed they are. So, dear leader, if you're not interested in the noble cause of saving Tokyo, or the less noble one of helping two orphans extract revenge, then perhaps you'll agree to team up for the selfish desire of comeuppance.”

“Depends on what the team wants; our decisions have to be unanimous.”

“If he’s telling the truth, it’s not beneficial for us to refuse a working relationship.” Morgana's tail swished. “I don’t think we have a choice.”

“Say we don’t take your offer and continue to investigate on our own, what outcome are you expecting?”

“Bluntly? Death. You’ve been walking straight into a trap for months and my employer doesn’t take prisoners.” Akechi frowned, fiddling with the seam of his gloves. “It causes me physical pain to admit, but I cannot bring them down alone, and neither can you. I wouldn’t be here if this weren’t a last resort.”

“You have a plan, I take it?”

“I do.”

“Let’s hear it before we make any decisions. There’s better lighting downstairs, and more room. Shall we?”

Everyone except Futaba stood. Entertaining the idea of this partnership would be asking more from her than the rest of the party. The sideways glance she gave him was a mixture of confusion, hurt, and helplessness. 

Acting quickly, he caught Haru on her way down the stairs. "Can you hang back a second? I have a question before we join the others."

She paused and tilted her head. "Sure."

"Two questions, actually. First, I thought you two were…?"

With a glance downstairs, she nodded so slightly, voice nearly a whisper. "We are."

"Hiding it will only deepen the distrust."

"At a better time, but not now. It's too much at once."

He was reluctant to agree, but it still wasn't his business. "Second, I need to know before I can agree to trust him. Is he responsible for Wakaba's suicide?"

She leaned against the banister and sighed.

"You know Futaba's basically my little sister." He was careful with his words, knowing she was likely listening. "I can't agree to this if it'll hurt her."

She kept her gaze trained downstairs where the rest of the Thieves were clamoring around Akechi. "He'll say yes if you ask him, but I don't think he's being truthful."

"What do you mean?"

"He doesn't like to talk about it so I don't know the whole story, but from what I've gathered he was drugged and his memory of what happened is foggy. He seems genuinely upset and disgusted whenever the topic comes up and I'm inclined to believe his involvement wasn't willful."

"Even though he thinks he's responsible?"

"Goro believes a lot of negative things about himself that aren't true. I have no reason to think he'd willingly put another kid through the same pain he suffered from his mother's death." She took a slow step down. “He has nightmares about it still. I’ve spent so many sleepless nights sitting up with him, afraid he’ll do something self-destructive if left alone. I’m not asking you to believe him, but please respect that I do.”

A thought clicked from her tone, the barely restrained fury. "You love him, don't you?"

Haru's brows knit and her lips pulled into a sharp line, a shadow crossing her face. "I would burn this city to the ground to keep him safe."

Akechi's voice cut off his next thought. "It costs _what?!"_ The volume increased. "Haru, how much did you spend on this watch?!"

She put her head in her hands and groaned. "It was a _gift."_ Continuing down the stairs, she left the conversation to hang unfinished in the air. "It's impolite to ask about the price of presents!"

Ren crept back up the stairs and sat beside Futaba at the table. She was fussing with the straps on Yusuke's bag, lost in thought.

"They're fraying, I thought I could guerrilla sew them without him noticing," she said by way of explanation, marking off a measurement in chalk.

"I didn't know you could sew."

She snorted. "Do you think Sojiro buys all my clothes?" Another mark, chalk smearing on her fingertips. "My mom taught me. It started with mending tears and replacing buttons, you know, little things that said 'I love you'. It's been a while since I've done it, kinda worried I might screw this up." She chuckled to herself and put her head on the table, getting chalk dust in her hair, on the collar of her jacket. "What am I doing, dude?"

"A nice thing for a good friend," he said, sparing her. They could talk about this later when he wasn't ambushing a private moment. "Question, did you hear what I asked Haru and will that suffice?"

"I did," she said and sat back up. "I'm not sure how much I trust either of them now, but I could tell she believes what she said from her tone."

"You don't have to agree to this if you don't feel comfortable." 

"The last thing I want to do is let everyone down, especially if it turns out they're both telling the truth."

Ren held out his hand. "Wanna join everyone downstairs, then?"

She looked sheepishly down at the bag. "I'm gonna finish this first, if that's all right."

"Of course." He stood and gave a mock salute. "I'll be back with a mission briefing."

It was chaos in the cafe, everyone crowded like cattle around a booth, energy and panicked excitement causing the air to vibrate. Yusuke had brought out a large sketchpad which was being used for notes. Morgana sat in the middle of it, arguing points with Makoto and Akechi, fur bristling. Haru was translating the feverish ranting to Ryuji and Ann, butting in to correct every so often.

Ren sat on the back of a bench, grateful Sojiro wasn't around to see him abusing the furniture. "Can you give me a run down? I'll pass it along to Futaba."

Yusuke perked up from a second sketchpad. "Is she not feeling well?"

"She's fine, working on another important task upstairs."

"He wants to ransack my sister's palace," Makoto said with an edge. "Rather unceremoniously."

"It's a controlled environment," Akechi snapped. "Besides which, even _you_ figured out Sae has already walked off the deep end."

"What do you mean by _even I?"_

"Please, you couldn't find your way out of a locked room if you were handed the key, it's a miracle you realized she's been acting worse."

_"Goro!"_

He whipped around to Haru. "You asked me to help, not pretend to be nice."

Ren leaned in towards Ann. "Has this been going on the whole time?"

She kept her voice low. "He was fine until Ryuji brought up the watch."

"Dumbass." He sat up straight. "Both of you cool it. We're not going to get anything done angling for each other's throats. Haru, I assume you know the plan in full?"

"I do."

"Great. Akechi, Makoto, you're banned from talking unless you're explicitly addressed. Haru, Morgana, please fill me in."

"We're going to use Sae's palace as a staging area." Haru said and moved to stand in front of the table, cutting off the peanut gallery's protests with an icy glare. "The cabal plans to bring police forces from our world in through the Metanav with the expressed purpose of capturing you, Ren. We don't think they'll keep you alive after questioning."

He sighed. "Lovely."

"Akechi will likely be your executioner," Morgana said as he pointed towards a set of bullets with his tail. "He's very obstinate about not being able to know how we'll stop that part of the mess."

"Why is that?"

"May I speak or am I still confined to mute baby jail?"

"You can explain and shut up after."

A vessel in his forehead was fit to burst. "They are dangerously close to being able to cause shutdowns without my assistance. This will make me disposable, and the leader has been itching for a reason to pick me off since the Okumura incident. I'm technically working with you on his orders so my involvement won't be questioned. However, if he gets the smallest hint that I'm a rogue agent, my body will be found in a ditch in the Aomori prefecture." His gaze pierced straight through Ren. "You'll have to figure out how to cheat death by yourself, Amamiya."

He sucked in a breath. "Wonderful. We can't run anything by you?"

"Absolutely nothing, and I can't divulge any more than I already have."

"And you're certain this gets us closer to taking out the leader?"

His smile was grim. "You'll need his guard down to get into his palace. Trust me, I've tried."

“Do you wanna drop us a name anytime soon?” Ryuji asked from the bar.

“No. It’s my insurance policy.”

"You've _got_ to be kidding me."

And the room once again descended into madness. Ren let it ride out this time, watching the volatile reaction hit its peak before fizzling out a half hour later, voices hoarse and insults exhausted. They agreed to reconvene at the court house tomorrow to scope out the palace. Makoto was insistent on not planning any further until they had a better idea of the layout and possible pitfalls. Tired but moderately satisfied, she dragged her younger teammates out the door before the last trains left them stranded. Futaba was escorted home by Morgana, leaving Ren alone with Akechi and a long-asleep Haru.

"I'm going to expect you to join on all Thieves business, it'll help the team feel more at ease around you," Ren said as he straddled a stool. "Except when we're plotting countermeasures, but that should be obvious."

He raised an eyebrow. "You do more than infiltrate palaces?"

"Yeah, sometimes we take small-time requests, but we also hang out as a group."

"I'm not interested in being friends with any of them."

He shrugged. "Strengthening bonds is important if we're going to work together, and it's easier to fight when everyone's in sync. I get that you're a perpetual loner, but make the effort, please. The worst we can do is annoy you."

"I'll think about it."

"Thank you. That said, I'm going to call it a night. Are you two going in the same direction?"

He looked uncharacteristically sheepish. "We sort of live together."

Ren whistled low. "That sounds like a scandal."

"It's not like—I mean, we're both independent—it was because of—" He cut himself off, flustered, face growing redder by the second. "Can we talk about this later?"

"I'm going to hold you to it," he said, grinning enormously. "I am deathly curious."

With an eye roll, Akechi turned to wake up Haru. "We missed the last train."

"Of course we did." Sluggish, she rummaged through her bag for her phone and handed it to him. "You call, please, I'm still sleepy."

"You're always sleepy." He stood and pulled her to her feet. "We'll see you tomorrow. I'll send more information when I get home."

Morgana strolled through the door as they left. He watched, ears perked, before slinking in. "They were lying earlier."

"Yep."

"You know this is going to be chaos, right?"

Ren sighed. _"Yep."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	11. are you really going to wear that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!! Sorry for the delay - the oneshot I did earlier in the week (it's very fluffy, go read it!) definitely threw me a little off. I had another 2-3 scenes planned that will instead go into the next chapter for sake of an update schedule, otherwise god only knows when this would be done. For future reference, the update timeline is "somewhere between Saturday and Monday"
> 
> This chapter is overall more lighthearted in tone than the last two - need some upbeat stuff to counteract the emotional hell looming on the horizon, ahahahaha

Her fists were curled into the lapels of his jacket the second the door to the apartment closed. "What were you _thinking?_ What did we _just_ say about not keeping secrets!?"

"I panicked! Why didn't you correct me?"

"Do you know how sketchy that would have seemed? 'No haha sorry we are dating for real, excuse him he's just an idiot'. As if we didn't have our story straight! How are they supposed to trust us about Shido if we're not being honest about something as fundamental as our relationship?"

Realization dawned on his face, finally. "I hadn't thought of that."

"You hadn't—" She cut herself off. "I am constantly amazed by your ability to be a brilliant strategist and a complete dumbass at the same time." Haru groaned and thunked her head lightly against his chest. "There's no way we're going to pull this off convincingly."

"I've been faking my personality for _years_ , and so have you."

"Yeah, and you still looked like you were going to deck Ryuji for talking to me. We're _screwed."_

"What if we broke up?" He sounded utterly mad, completely feverish. "Then it wouldn't be a lie."

"Do you, in any capacity, want to break up with me? Think _very_ carefully before you answer."

"I—"

"If you say yes, I'm not taking you back."

He looked like she was physically choking him. "No I do not."

"Good. Now that we're past the obvious bad answers, what do we do?"

"What if we don't do anything? Keep acting like we normally would?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure that will look perfectly platonic."

"Could claim it's old habits since we were 'pretending' for so long."

"I'm demoting you from boyfriend to stuffed animal since your brain seems to be full of cotton and you're only good at taking up space in our bed."

He blinked. "Our bed?"

"You live here too, don't you?" She let go of his collar and began to strip off her outer layers. "Isn't that what you told Ren?"

"You were _awake?"_

"In and out of sleep." She knelt down to untie her boots. "We should start to migrate over to the main house, let the staff know you'll be a regular fixture. I'm worried one of them might come looking for me and find you here in your pajamas eating something hunched over the sink like a feral animal."

"I did that _once_ because we were out of bowls."

"And how many times because you were too lazy to look in the cabinet?"

He grumbled as he placed his shoes neatly in the closet. "Some of us don't have good manners every waking hour of our lives, Miss Perfect."

"Can you imagine if your fan base ever found out it's all an act and at the end of the day you're just a rude, sleep-deprived gremlin with pretty eyes?" She laughed at his overly-offended expression. "If it's any consolation, they're very pretty. I can see myself getting lost in them."

He opened his mouth but nothing came out, and she nearly doubled over giggling as he flushed brighter than a tomato. "There is no way we're going to pull this off," he said through his hands.

She pried his fingers away from his pretty face. "Not if you get flustered whenever someone gives you a compliment."

"It's only when you do it. Hits differently.”

Standing on tiptoes, she gave him a quick peck. “Then I will save them for a more private setting. Your blushing is very cute though.”

"Oh fuck off," he groaned and stormed away, embarrassed.

"Have I ever told you how handsome you look in a suit?"

"Fuck _off!"_

The bathroom door slammed and she howled with laughter.

  
  


Haru was dragged to Leblanc after classes, her protests of _I need to go home first!_ falling flat. It felt like an intervention, the rest of the Thieves all staring at her from around the table. Ren spoke first. "I know we said we'd agree to work with Akechi, but it's been brought to my attention that everyone has a _lot_ of questions they want answered before we meet up today. One of the big ones is—"

Futaba interrupted. "Is he always that mean?"

She sighed, this was going to be a long afternoon. "Yes, he tends to be prickly. Especially with new people."

"So the detective prince thing is all an act?"

"The character is, his intelligence isn't."

"Back to what I was going to say," Ren started before they could get further off topic. "How long have you known he's the one causing the mental shutdowns?"

"Since April, a little after the subway derailment."

He raised an eyebrow. "And you still allied yourself with him?"

"I think it would make more sense if I explained the nature of our agreement."

"Any objections?" When none were voiced, he nodded to her. "Well, color me curious, let's hear it."

"Okumura Foods has had uncouth business practices for more than a year now. I had been made into something of a weapon myself, acting under my father's orders. He was a benefactor for the cabal until he decided he wished to pursue government as well. I was asked to spy on the group by pretending to maintain a relationship with Goro, and he had been ordered to do the same. We immediately agreed to work together against our instructions." Haru stopped to gather her thoughts, not wanting to reveal too much about their actual entanglement. "After about five months he divulged to me the nature of his work, and his intent. There is more to his reasoning than he told you yesterday, but it's extremely personal."

Makoto spoke first. "And you trust that he's telling you the truth?"

She nodded slowly. "He was far more suicidal when we met. I know my word doesn't hold the most weight, but I can say with certainty he is being honest with me."

"Can you give us a hint to why he's working with them?" Ren crossed his arms. "Double agent or not, people are dead."

"Coercion with threat of death."

"That doesn't excuse—"

"You have a gun to your head and a gun in your hands. You're told to pull the trigger. What do you do?" She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not defending his actions, but choosing to put the majority of the blame on him and not his manipulator is an ignorant and parochial line of thought."

“What even gave someone that much power over him in the first place? He doesn’t come off as the easily-swayed type.”

“It’s a personal and private matter I will not discuss. Ask him yourself.”

"I have a question too, if that's all right. Different topic." Ann leaned forward on her elbows. "What was it like pretending to date him?"

This was _much_ more welcome. "Honestly? Awful. His fanbase is rabid and would constantly insult me online and take creepy pictures. One time someone left a nasty letter at school. I would encourage you to avoid seeing anyone with idol status. I'm no stranger to smear campaigns, but teenage girls are a whole new level of cruel."

Ann nodded. "I get that. I've had to deal with a lot of stalking and harassment as a model, totally here for you if you want to vent sometime."

"I appreciate that, really."

Yusuke went next. "Would you consider yourself a friend, or a business partner only?"

She hesitated. "A little of both. I would say I'm a close confidant."

"He's already shown himself to be two-faced; are you certain you're seeing both sides?"

"Yes," she said too quickly. "I'm aware of the character he plays and what lies beneath."

(Yusuke, having watched the way they interacted last night, was not convinced this was platonic. He would need to consult with Ren later.)

She checked her watch. "It's getting late. Any other questions before you make a decision?"

"Yeah, I have one." Ryuji leaned back. "So you're aware of what he's like but you're still working with him. What are _you_ hiding?"

Morgana's ear twitched. "That's surprisingly insightful for you."

"Thanks, I— _what do you mean for me!?"_

She waited for them to stop squabbling. Better to say everything vile now instead of leaving secrets to fester. "I was ordered to seduce and extract information out of a married man who worked closely with a rival company. He'd already proven to be unfaithful, but I was the last straw, so to speak. His firm tried to cover it up but news spread and he killed himself. His wife was expecting." The sour taste of bile lingered on the back of her tongue. "I have more stories, if you want. Does that help you consider my partnership with Akechi more plausible?"

With a conflicted sigh, Ren spoke. "You drove a man to suicide?"

"Hard to say what finally broke him. For the sake of my conscience I like to think there were multiple factors involved. But it's disgusting what some parents can convince their child to do when they've been starved for attention." 

"Couldn't you refuse?"

"I was one false step from being sold into sex slavery under the guise of a political marriage." She let her shoulders fall. "It's an ugly world out there, and nothing is black and white."

To her surprise, Makoto put a hand on her arm. "Just because most of our conflicts with authority figures have been straightforward doesn't mean we're going to look down on your struggle. We can't neglect how strong the drive for survival is in a tough situation."

Ren nodded. "Are you in?"

"I am."

"Anyone else?"

Everyone around the table raised a hand.

"Then it's settled; we're officially on the case. And we are running phenomenally late. Last one there buys Yusuke lunch for a month."

Ryuji bolted, pushing past Ren. "Dude I can _not_ afford to feed that guy what the hell!"

Goro was waiting by the time the out of breath group ambled to the meeting place. He cocked an eyebrow. "Practicing for a marathon?"

"Threatened with financial ruin." Ryuji needed to lean against a lamp post.

"Yusuke has no concept of cash flow so we take turns making sure he eats. Ren suggested whoever got here last would be it for a month." Haru was the least winded; no point running if the consequences would barely eat into a day's budget.

"He's an art prodigy, correct? Does he not take commissions?"

"No, he does, he just spends everything he earns on more supplies." She shrugged. "I've tried to go over budgeting with him but it was like trying to teach a fish to breathe air."

"Sounds frustrating." He raised his voice. "Are you all ready to go? Or do you need a few more minutes to be frighteningly out of shape?"

Ren stood from his hunch. "Do you have the keywords?"

"I do. May I?"

"Please."

She was a little too close to Goro when they entered the metaverse, the dizzying force pushing her off-balance. She may have gripped his arm to steady herself, and he may have reoriented her with a hand on the small of her back.

(Makoto, watching intently, thought their lack of personal space boundaries was over the top for being 'just friends.' She'd have to talk to Ren later.)

Futaba shook out her arms. "Is anyone seeing this casino? Inari, you're the tallest, what's the view from up there?"

He crouched down. "Exactly the same."

"It's the court house, we'll need to move forward to see it." Goro started ahead, then stopped. "Is that demon thing Morgana?"

"I'm not a demon! And it's Mona here!"

"We use codenames in the metaverse." Ren adjusted his glasses. "We'll need to give you one too."

"I shudder to think what the rest of you are called."

He raised a shoulder half-heartedly. "We picked mostly on appearance. I'm Joker, around the circle is Panther, Queen, Skull, Fox, Navi, and Noir. Unfortunately, I don't think calling you Black Mask is going to be a smash hit."

"My mask won't be black, anyway."

The group gave him a collective look of confusion.

"I have two personas. The one I will be using for the duration of this heist is not black, and neither is my costume."

Ren frowned. "Are you also a wild card?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Nevermind. What are we dubbing you?"

"Tengu?"

Ann shook her head. "Hard pass. You'd have the only Japanese name."

"What about Crow?"

"Even though your outfit apparently isn't black?"

"More deceiving that way, isn't it?"

"It's your codename, your choice." Ren motioned for them to follow. "Anything else you want to tell us before we head in? Like what your stake is? You were vague earlier."

She could hear the bristle in his tone. "You mean why I chose to ally myself with them, even falsely?"

"Wouldn't hurt." Ren's expression was hard to read, eyes hidden by the glare on his glasses. "Everyone else has shared their reasons for being here. Consider it a rite of passage."

"Very well. The man at the head of the organization raped my mother multiple times and eventually sired me. She was predictably thrown into the gutter when he'd decided she was no longer a fun toy. Ostracized and alone, the stress of raising me was too overwhelming to bear and she took her life to escape. I was six when I found her." 

The rawness in his eyes stung and she avoided glancing in his direction. Instead, she watched as Ren held his gaze. "The piece of shit in charge is your father?"

His jaw tightened. "My only parent is dead; I am no one's son."

"Does he know?"

Of course he knew. Goro had spent countless nights pacing, rambling to her about how disgusted he was with himself for craving some kind of attention from his progenitor—though never in those words, never wanting to link them together by blood. He had been so easy to manipulate, desperate for acceptance no matter the cost. His own self-worth had been so twisted into that praise it had taken dragging him with her to grief counseling to get him to evaluate how _bad_ that was.

"What do you think?" The venom in his tone was corrosive. "I don't want your sympathy, and I especially don't want your pity, so keep whatever sappy words you have to yourselves." He pulled his face back into a serviceable shape. "Now, can we _please_ get on with the mission? Or do you want to keep clumsily digging up bones from my childhood like a bunch of amateur archaeologists?"

"You are _so_ mean," Ren said in an attempt to ease the tension. "How on earth do you act innocent and unassuming so convincingly?"

"Practice."

The group was thankfully less on edge by the time they'd made it to the building. Spotlights danced along the façade in slow arcs, smaller auxiliary bulbs in bright colors flashing alongside. The fountains in the front were loud, jets shooting off at calculated intervals audible even as they crouched beside a row of topiary. It was glamorous but cheap, like a fancily executed card trick. It was a quick trip up a fire escape and to an entrance on the roof. The smell of cheap cologne, cigars, and stale alcohol as soon as the door was opened.

Oh, goodness. Their clothing had changed upon stepping inside, and that was _not_ what she expected Goro's costume to look like. Her laugh in surprise was ugly and she temporarily forgot herself, reaching to flick the tassels on his epaulettes.

"What _are_ you supposed to be?"

"A _prince._ I'm a detective _prince."_

She ignored the fury in his voice. "This is your sense of justice?"

"At least I'm not a musketeer. Impressive that you managed to find pants bigger than your hair."

"You're wearing a cape, are you sure you've got a leg to stand on here?"

(Ann leaned in to Makoto and whispered, "Is it just me, or are they flirting?"

"I think they're flirting."

Yusuke ducked as well. "I've reached the same conclusion."

"We should talk to Ren later.")

Goro made a strangled noise. "I've already said I have two personas, and I am using this one _specifically_ to stay under the radar."

"Is the other outfit less goofy?"

He flushed behind his mask. "It's like a sentai—it doesn't matter, can we move on please?"

Futaba's ears had already perked. "Sort of like a Featherman ranger?"

Whelp, his eyes were shining; they lost him. "Yes, actually. You know Featherman?"

Futaba took an enormous breath and was immediately silenced by Ren slapping his hand over her mouth. "She won't shut up once she gets started, you two can catch up after we're done for the day."

His ability to capture attention was impressive, the Thieves falling in line quickly as they scaled the ceiling ornaments to a vent on the other side of the room. She caught herself wondering if the air ducts were always person-sized in the metaverse or if their own cognition was what let them progress.

Dropping down into the main hall, they were met with a call of, “You can all come out, no reason to sneak around.” 

Sae’s shadow watched, head cocked, as they approached.

“No time for introductions?” Ren asked with far too much confidence.

“I am who I am, you are who you are; time is money and your talk is worthless. I’ll save everyone the trouble and tell you where the treasure is, but you’ll have to win it from me.” She crossed her arms over the black satin of her dress. “I’ll give you a hint; you’ll have to meet me upstairs.”

She snapped her fingers and vanished.

Ryuji spoke first. “That was an unbelievably shitty hint.”

“The sections are divided up based on spending level,” Goro said half in thought. “We’re likely in the area meant for casual players and low-stakes betting, though this looks more like a lobby than anything.”

“What’s above this, then?”

“A member’s lounge, perhaps? Casinos this big tend to have more than two tiers of gambler levels, and players can gain access to more VIP areas with keycards or fobs.”

“Familiar with the sins of greed, Akechi?” Ren asked.

“I’ve… spent my fair share of time in spaces not meant for adolescents.” He gave Haru a very quick glance of, _we’ll talk about this later._

“Hate to break up the brainstorming session, but there’s a shadow approaching.” Futaba’s mask vanished and Necronomicon manifested slowly, a leviathan waking from a long slumber. “Let’s see what you’ve got, newbie!”

“This will be quick. If the rest of you could stand back, please.”

Haru would have to rib him for the comic book character when they got home. To his credit, the bow was menacing. The rest of the ensemble, not so much.

Goro mocked pulling an arrow back and a beam of light shot from Robin Hood’s weapon, piercing straight through the Ose’s chest, disappearing as it fractured into a million bright shards. Meeting the shadow’s blades halfway, he redirected its weight towards the floor, sending it off-balance. A swift, well-aimed kick to the ribs and it landed on its knees. His sword hissed violently as he sliced clean through its neck, body returning to the ether before the head could hit the floor.

“Well!” He turned back around and smiled. “How was that?”

“You’re very…” Morgana was clearly struggling for a word. “Methodical.”

“Dude, I’m just glad we’re on the same side.”

“I’m not sure why I even bothered to summon my persona; you’re miles ahead of us.”

His face returned to its normal, condescending sneer. “I’ve been doing this for years, it would be embarrassing if I weren’t more practiced.”

“On that note, before we get any cattier, I motion we should head back to plan.” Ren stretched his shoulders. “It’s going to be a long night; I’ve got coffee if anyone needs it on the trip back to Leblanc.”

* * *

"Are we really, actually, seriously stalking them right now? Do you not have _anything_ better to do?" It was a Tuesday, it was after school, and they should have been working on the infiltration.

"Ren, no offense, but you're here too." Ann had _fucking_ binoculars in her hands.

"I'm here to make sure you don't do anything blindingly stupid, like get caught. Don't roll your eyes at me, Makoto, you're the one I'm most concerned about."

"I'm sneaky!"

"Remember when you tried to trail us during the Kaneshiro case? Emphasis on tried?"

She grumbled something under her breath.

"And none of you told Ryuji?"

"He has yet to figure it out," Yusuke said from behind his magazine. "We decided not to mention it; he is quick to speak without thinking."

"And he's loud. Way too risky." Ann took another peek around the corner. "They're on the move."

"I don't see them."

"Appliance store, ten o'clock. You can't miss Akechi's coat. It's like, designed to draw attention."

"Are you sure _that's_ them?"

"Positive, I recognize the keychain on her bag."

If Ann hadn't pointed them out, he could have walked by unknowingly in a crowd. Nothing about Haru's ensemble looked familiar; her dark coat was form-fitted, heels on her boots stick thin and a mile high. Akechi beside her had the loudest trenchcoat on the street but managed to stay invisible, unrecognizable. Maybe it was the busyness of the white and black pattern.

"I am fascinated by how easily they can hide in plain sight by simply changing their styles and tying their hair up." Yusuke turned a page. "Should we be worried about them spotting us?"

Makoto shook her head. "I don't think they're paying attention."

Haru said something that made Akechi laugh and it was strange to watch, as if Ren were intruding on a private moment. The regular doom and gloom in his expression was missing, replaced with a happiness that looked both genuine and out of place. As if he weren't confident what a real smile looked like. And, quite bewilderingly, they were openly holding hands.

"Wow." Ann blinked. "I can't believe I just witnessed blatant PDA from them."

Makoto shifted her weight. "Could they be…faking it still?"

"They are not, and if you're all done being creepy, we can go literally anywhere else to discuss this."

"Did you know beforehand, Ren?"

He nodded. "I was asked to keep it quiet for a reason, but I'm not telling you why here. Come on, back to Leblanc. Yusuke, I'll buy you curry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More than subtle PDA is taboo in Japan so the fact that they're openly holding hands is a bigger deal than it would be in the west. Stalking is still stalking and Ann, Makoto, and Yusuke are being creepy.
> 
> The PTs are still wary of him, guess they'll need to do more bonding activities so they're more cohesive when shit hits the fan
> 
> I am weak weak weak for him blushing about compliments and her being a sick bastard and dishing them out solely to make him flustered


End file.
